


The Stragglers

by Quinhwyvar



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awesome Michelle Jones, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Life Choices, Precious Ned Leeds, Precious Peter Parker, Short & Sweet, Short Stories, Slow Build, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinhwyvar/pseuds/Quinhwyvar
Summary: Prompt and fluff filled one shots for hard times. Chapter 9: May decides to talk to Peter. Everything changes after she asks if it is okay to talk about his parents.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 18
Kudos: 65





	1. The Stragglers

_Prompt: "How long have I got?" she asked._

"Your future is death," Ned announced to MJ so loudly that Peter nearly jumped from his spot sitting against the teacher's desk.

" _Oh really?_ _"_ MJ asked as she threw down a seven on their Uno discard pile. "Ned. Give me your cards and explain further please."

He seemed so amused at his phone screen that he didn't even seem upset as he exchanged his three cards for her eight.

"What do you mean, she's going to die?" Peter stretched the knicks out of his spine. They were all sitting on the floor in their classroom. They always turned out to be the last ones at decathlon practice. The excuses why varied person to person. Peter knew he was dragging his duties on superhero business, Ned said he was avoiding extra credit homework and MJ pleaded the fifth.

After the first couple times this happened, they had made it official. Ned brought his Uno deck that was missing a few cards, Peter brought soda and MJ named the group.

 _The Stragglers_ were now in session.

"Loser, use that wild card that you're clearly showing everyone." MJ raised her eyebrow at Peter. "Now I'm dying?"

Peter could feel that his ears burned as he tucked his cards back against his chest. There was always something about this group that made him entirely at home but also entirely off his game. Someday he needed to figure it out so he would win more games. He played the wild card. She was right. There was no other move.

"Yup," Ned said, "This new Instagram filter tells you what your fate is. Yours just says 'stone cold dead' and when."

A smile flickered across MJ's face. "Hilarious."

Her attention went back over to him and that smile disappeared. Leaning over, she pushed his cards back up. Peter knew that his ears weren't the only things that were burning.

"How long have I got?" she asked and then she looked at him, "What color, Peter?"

"I guess red?"

"Fitting."

Darn it.

Ned played a two and laughed. "It says that you've got until midnight."

"Well folks." She spun a card onto the pile. "I guess this is our last game since I'm dying at exactly midnight."

"Oh no. Who is going to run the next decathlon meeting?" Peter tried to keep the conversation going so no one would notice his face. He studied his cards, trying to find out the best way to get rid of them. He played five.

"Clearly not me. I'll be stone cold dead." Her sarcasm was so dry that it crackled the air.

"She'll be there," Ned said, "even if just in spirit, she'll make sure that we all somewhat stay on track."

She hummed, drawing a card and playing it. "Who knows what is beyond this life?"

They laughed. The school was mostly empty except for the drama kids. They were shouting Latin phrases at each other and practicing stabbing Caesar. His phone buzzed. Ned's eyes went to it. Peter shifted, rocking from side to side until he wiggled it out. It was usually one of two things: A text from a friend, doubtful since his only two friends were here or a superhero summons.

He didn't want to have to make the excuse to leave.

"Peter, it's your turn, I'm dying over here."

"Right, sorry." He tossed a blue nine, changing the color of the deck.

"You suck," Ned started drawing cards but he wasn't paying attention. The screen in his hands crackled to life. What could be happening on a Saturday afternoon? Crime peaks around 10 p.m. He would, or should, be on patrol by then. It was a text and not something pushed onto his phone from the police feeds Ned set up for him.

_4:17 p.m. from May: Getting groceries. Hit a sale. How many gallons of milk do you want this week? Can freeze them._

Peter swallowed his relief. Ned's and MJ's chatter was an easy background noise. Well, that was an easy answer.

_Five._

The game came back around to him. He stared at his cards, the phone tucked behind them. It didn't really matter. He wasn't expecting to win. He played a skip.

"Hey. I'm a dead woman walking. Stop it."

_4:19 p.m. from May: Bullshit. Getting eight. You drank three in the last four days. What about being a spider-_

He snapped the phone closed and tossed it on his backpack. That was where it really should be. Nobody needed him right now. May's questions about being a spider were always teasing and could be handled later.

"What are you two doing tonight?" MJ asked as the game rolled back down to her.

Peter shrugged. "The usual stuff. Nothing exciting."

"Same. Life is boring."

The cards flicked across the floor. The color changed and then immediately changed again. Ned's chin twitched. He was thankful that he wasn't competitive. There were times when he thought that MJ and Ned would fight each other if it meant deciding a different winner.

MJ tossed a card. "Let's play a fun game. Since I am _dying_ and all, I've got a couple things on my bucket list that I want to check off. You want to help me do one of them?"

Peter paused. He shouldn't. Spider-Man needed to come into account and he really should go home to help May carrying eight gallons of milk to their walk up. Ned looked at his phone but there was a similar look of balancing on his face.

She leaned forward, pointing a finger right at him. "I'm wasting away with less than twenty four hours left and I want to spend it with you and you hesitate?"

Right. MJ _was_ dying, albeit slower than she was claiming. Still, there were other people that needed to be saved.

"Alright, why don't we meet up in Union Square at seven since you two are clearly socialites." She rolled her eyes.

Peter conceded."Yeah, I can do that."

After an hour, he could switch it up and become Spider-Man from there.

"Cool. Also. Uno." She smiled.

Ned shoved Peter so hard that he lost his balance. "Use your plus two! We can't let her win again!"

Unfortunately, Ned's shoes squealed against the tile and he came down hard on top of his friend.

"I don't have one." Peter laughed, or tried to with the wind knocked out of him. He rolled onto his back and kicked Ned off of him. MJ just shook her head.

"MJ look over there! A new book on American Literature and Theory!" Ned pointed wildly. "Annnnddd let me just..." A card popped out of Ned's hand and he stretched to give it up Peter. He went for it just as obviously. The plastic of the card touched his fingers.

"Oh come on guys. First of all, if you are going to lay on top of each other, just make out. Second of all, stop cheating. It's done." She pulled the card from Ned's fingers and slapped down her last card. A wild card was on the top of the pile.

Ned grumbled something.

She popped up. "I'll see you dummies later. Don't forget my eulogies. I'll be expecting them."

Then she was gone through the door, leaving them to clean up the mess.

Twilight in Union Square was an interesting time. The tourists were still thinking about being out so the street performers continued to strut their stuff. But it was also the time that New Yorkers themselves got stuff done. All of this meant it was buzzing with people and the smell of trash was worse than ever.

Peter leaned against a light post, the lenses of the mask digging into his spine through his backpack. While he was being a bit irresponsible, he didn't want to be an entirely terrible human being. If Spider-Man was needed, he was one quick lie about having a stomach ache away. He took a deep breath and watched some younger kids try again on their skateboards on the stairs.

No one else had showed up yet. A rarity but dinner hadn't taken as long and the subway didn't have the delays he expected. It felt odd that he was out at night without flying through the air. He'd take it.

MJ and Ned came out of the subway station and he waved them over. Ned was still wearing the same stuff from earlier but she had swapped out her shirt for another that was pure black. Fitting.

"I want you all to notice that I was the first one here," Peter said.

"Congratulations." MJ's sarcasm appeared that it was going to die with her as they came over.

"It is a record that you are here first," Ned said.

"Ha."

"MJ, explain yourself for being late. You always make me do it." Those lies were the hardest to come up with on the spot. Usually he had been just punched in the face or had hurried so quickly across the city that he was struggling to keep his breath normal. Whatever he said she always gave the same unbelieving look.

"Well, I was signing my will. Come on. Seconds of my life are passing." She turned away without a second look.

"Where are we going?"

"The Strand."

"You're dying and you want to go to a bookstore?"

"A very specific portion of the bookstore."

When they arrived at that very specific portion of the bookstore, Peter was starting to have serious doubts.

"This is not what I thought you were saying."

 _A Duke for Hire_ looked at him from out of the corner of his eye. The wood flooring was creaking all around them. It felt like it was only a matter of time before May found him in the romance section of the bookstore. It would be even worse if someone from school found him here.

MJ seemed to have no problem with all of this.

"Okay team. We are looking for the book with a human being with the least amount of clothes on. Gender. Does. Not. Matter." She clapped through the last sentence.

"But-" Ned's levels of stress were high by the damp spot on his back.

"MJ…"

"These are my dying wishes. Are you going to complain now?" She pulled a book at random. "Observe. This one, the guy is still wearing most of an outfit. Only the lady's shoulders are exposed. Boring! I am looking for a near miss. A close call. One inch to the right and it can't be on the cover."

She shoved the offending book back on the shelf. "The closest call wins. We've got five minutes. Go!"

Peter would wonder later why he immediately started to do what she said. The books were half yanked out and put back at a rapid pace. It was probably the tone in her voice. It was absolutely expected that he was going to comply and it was competitive as any card game.

"I got a bikini." MJ waved a book and put it at her feet.

Blinders. He concentrated on his hands. A lady with her full leg showing slowed him down the pulling. Would that be a close call? Part of his brain was on the fritz like snap crackle pop cereal. Maybe it was the leg. Maybe it was the hurry. Maybe it was the thrill of really really _really_ not wanting to be caught actually doing this.

"How about this?" Ned's face was flush as he held up a cover. "She's only wearing a towel. I bet you can't beat this?"

She leaned over. "Bikini is better. See him pulling?"

"Oh geez, is that what he is doing?"

Peter didn't look. He didn't need to look. He was going to have to up his game for this one. A lady with a gun on the cover was cool. He put it on the floor as a bonus point or something.

"Kilt only?" Ned squatted down, peering down at a bottom row.

"Too much."

"This one is close." MJ stepped down from a stool. "Look how he's kinda losing his shirt and pants at the same time?"

Now they both paused to look. Peter dropped down from looking at a top shelf, another book still in hand.

This time the couple was embracing. She was all over him. If the script on the top didn't say _Spring of Desire_ , he would have thought that she was strangling him and sucking his life through his mouth at the same time. His shirt was in the middle of fluttering to the beach sand but his pants. Well. MJ was right. They were about to go too.

He had to look away. It almost felt…wrong.

Peter found the book in his hands.

"Guys…I've got the winner."

The guy on the cover was wearing…absolutely nothing. Full plastic-y muscles shown behind a full moon. Peter could count a ten pack and crazy tattoos. The man glowered and seemed to say, "yes, I am wearing only the title of this book and a dark mist for pants and what are _you_ going to do about it?"

Peter wasn't going to do anything about it. _Love_ _'s Lost Soldiers_ was the winner.

He handed it over.

MJ's eyes widened and she coughed as the man dared her too. He could have left it on the shelf, Peter thought, he could have said nothing. Ned was trying to look around her but by his lack of response, he wasn't getting too far.

She coughed and hiccuped before it turned into full blown giggles. She pressed the book against her chest and her hand came up to her face as the laughter took over.

"It's so bad, Peter." She managed. "It's so bad."

Ned pulled the book from her. Any color that was in his face disappeared.

"Now, this is just unfair. How are we supposed to compete with this?" He pointed at the chest. "This is impossible."

MJ had slipped onto the floor, romance books in a circle, her head in her hands. "This so stupid."

"I'm sorry?" Peter wasn't even sure if it was good or bad.

"Oh no. The book is perfect."

"It is?"

She nodded and pushed herself back up. "Come on, you can't get more naked than naked. Let's go. You two are buying this for me."

" _What?_ " Peter wasn't sure which one of them started that question first but they both ended it at the same time.

"Think of it as a parting gift."

It took about ten minutes of guilt tripping about MJ dying for them to concede. Peter had to hide the book under his arm while they stood shoulder to shoulder in line. Of course it was ten people long. The book was making an imprint in his side. Nobody except the cashier could see this, especially the guy behind them that was roughly their age.

MJ was watching them from the new book table, her eyes nearly glittering with laughter and tears in the light.

"We can't do this," Ned whispered.

"It's a dare."

"I know but-"

"She said we aren't confident enough in our own masculinity to go against the patriarchy to defend a strong feminist agenda."

"What does that even _mean_?"

"I'm still working through that."

"Well, I say we tell her she should buy the book to-to-to confirm her own identity as-"

"Hey. Losers." MJ joined them, appearing from nowhere. "Here's a bookmark."

A kitten bookmark was stuffed under Ned's crossed arms.

"You doing good? Not thinking about chickening out, are you?"

"No." Peter was sure the lie was evident.

"Cool. We'll go to that ice cream place up the street after this. I'm buying."

Then she was gone again. They were next in line.

Peter put the book face down on the counter with a ten already placed on top of it. His heart shouldn't be beating this quickly. Ned placed the orange kitten next to it. The cashier they got was a woman in her thirties and she smiled at them with something close to warmth that could be practiced over and over.

Her fingers went on the book and she flipped it over.

"It's for class." Ned blurted out.

Peter stepped on his foot so hard that he was afraid that he might have broken it.

Ned jerked but didn't jump.

"Oh?" She asked and then she saw the cover. The only change in the facade was a flicker on the corner of her mouth.

"We're writing an essay on the," Ned swallowed and continued at a higher octave, "on the overmasculation of men in the romance genre."

"For our English class." If they were going to do this, Peter was going to do his part. Then the cashier did something that made him want to yank the book away. She studied the cover. Her eyes searched everything. Sweat was now on the back of his neck. With a small huff, she turned it over and read the back.

Oh no.

Neither one of them knew what the thing was actually about.

Peter was going to throw up. He made a note to do that later.

She made a small "huh" and tucked the kitten bookmark inside.

"Well, how thoughtful. Do you want a bag?"

"Yes."

They all ended up walking to a further subway stop together. Somehow Peter had looked at the clock and it had made his heart jump in his chest. How did it get to be past ten? MJ had laughed but after spending hours sitting on the top of a picnic table talking about what felt like nothing, she had conceded.

"Cheers to buying that." MJ held up her bottle of water and held up the Strand bag. "What a grand way to end my life."

"So you are happy?" Peter asked. "That was your plan? You got us to buy you a romance book. I never would have never said that I was going to do that."

She chuckled, looking at him. "I've been playing it by ear. Wu-wei and all that and shit. You know?"

Peter did not know. By Ned's quick look at him, he also was drawing a blank.

It didn't matter because MJ skated onward without a pause. "Getting that romance book was a feat. When she looked at the back cover, I thought one of you were going to pass out and hit the floor."

"We weren't that embarrassed. It was just something that I never got to do," Ned said.

"And now you did." She paused at the entry to the subway. "Sadly, I think that there is homework in Hell so…are you coming?"

MJ would have hated herself if she realized how real her smile was at them for that moment. As she waited for a response, something about her was different, looser, real, easier than the usual guarded self. Peter realized that she looked happy. Her arms swayed at her sides as she shook her head.

"Ok. Whatever. Good night losers. See you in the next life," She laughed and turned, disappearing down the stairs.

Peter looked at the concrete that she had been standing on. It was so empty now.

"You're gonna go do your thing?" Ned whispered. Peter jerked himself to focus on anything else.

"I'm going to go do my thing," he tried to sound cheery about it.

Ned took a step and then turned, his eyes squinting at Peter. "You know with all my geek knowledge of sarcasm buffs, sometimes I get this weird idea that MJ might…like you?"

" _What?_ No way." Something twitched in Peter's chest as he laughed it off.

"See you Monday," Ned shrugged.

"See you then."

Peter stood there once they were both gone. It couldn't be true. It wouldn't be true. He's just boring old Peter Parker.

The ice cream must have been getting to Ned.

Almost all of him believed that as he turned away to suit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COVID-19 has hit us all in all very strange ways. I can't concentrate on original writing so I've defaulted to Peter Parker...as usual. Here are my rules of this series of short stories:
> 
> 1\. This story will only update as long as my city is under the "stay at home" order. After that, I will slap complete on this guy. I assume my life (and job) will return to normal. Don't worry, right now that order has no end date.
> 
> 2\. I'll be using a list of prompts on a website I found. I'll change the pronouns and tense as needed.
> 
> 3\. Post as I go. Most writers don't need this one but I tend to write a whole story and then start posting it. I'll allow myself a one chapter buffer but no more.
> 
> Let's see what tomfoolery I can get into!
> 
> What do you think so far?
> 
> Thank you for reading and letting me know. - Quin


	2. Of Yachts and Suits

_Prompt:_ _It was the first time I've ever tried to sail a boat._

Being Spider-Man meant that Peter did lots of crazy things. He blinked at the view. Sure, he had saved a building from flooding yesterday and the day before was about a guy weaponizing bees but Peter was confident on this one. This day was the weirdest one yet.

He was holding tight to the railing of a yacht, staring up at the Statue of Liberty. The breeze tugged hard against his hair. The sight stole his breath away. The statue was larger than he imagined from the shore. Instantly he wanted to climb it, to get on top, to see the world from a different perspective. There had never been a chance before.

And this still wasn't that chance.

Peter Parker needed to stay on deck. He squeezed the railing and let go, adding it to his bucket list as a consolation prize.

The ocean stung his nose as he turned around to the private deck clustered with fancy furniture and outfits. Party music drifted down from a lower floor. Who knew that yachts could have more than one level? As he had exited the taxi to board the boat, he had counted three stories. Peter took a step forward and nearly bumped into a crew member.

"Sorry sir," the man said half bowing.

Peter's stomach turned at the guy twice his age addressed him like that. "No, please, you don't have to-"

"Rest assured, this is non-alcoholic." The crew member's smile cut him off and he handed Peter a pink drink.

If he hadn't felt strange before, the feeling choked him. His worn out tennis shoes, the t-shirt with a baseball player yelling _Touchdown!_ and jeans were the exact opposite of the relaxed suits and dresses on the deck. The drink froze his hand.

Once a month, Mr. Stark required a check in and turn up with the suit. Peter usually stuck around. Between the two AIs, the suit was evaluated and Mr. Stark programmed his machines to complete the necessary repairs.

When Happy called today to tell him to drop off the suit and head to the dock, Peter hadn't known what to think. The guy sounded annoyed after Peter's third unanswered question of why.

The only clarification he had gotten was from Mr. Stark shouting at the phone: "Happy, tell the kid that the fourth Sunday of every month is yacht day and it's the fourth Sunday and nothing is going to change that so get him on board."

So Peter had called May, pocketed his extra webshooters and taken the waiting taxi at Stark Tower.

He was instructed to wait on the private Stark deck instead of the other levels where he had seen faces that were in ads in Time Square. Now it was a waiting game with no end. Peter shuffled to a seat away from everybody but ended up moving a few more chairs over since he was sitting next to the bathrooms.

He was dying to text Ned about this but he wasn't sure if he was supposed to. This could all be a secret mission.

The strawberries peaked out from a clear liquid with ice in his hand. A sniff told him it was sweet and might have citrus. He should have asked what it was. He still could but when he tried to wave at a staff member, it felt stupid and dumb because he was probably supposed to be sophisticated to be on this level and he was certainly not that. The wave turned into a head scratch and the waitress stopped and smiled.

All of them smiled at him like a bad joke. They knew that he wasn't supposed to be there.

He put an uncomfortable arm on the railing and looked out at the view.

May would have loved to see all of this.

His webshooter glimmered in the sunlight. Peter pulled back and took a drink instead. It was shockingly delicious and tasted like a strawberry shortcake. He kept the glass to his lips until all that was left in his mouth was ice. It was actually disappointing.

"Peter, come on." Happy stood at the entrance, waiving him over. "Diagnostics are done."

He hurried over with the drink still in his hand. Happy's eyes had bags and he looked with more of a glare than usual. Wordlessly, he turned back and started up through the inner workings of the boat. Peter tried not to stare as they went through the guts of the ship.

"How are you today?" Peter asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Oh I would be just fine except nothing is going to change that I hate yacht days."

"Why?"

Happy looked over his shoulder. "He always tries to drive the boat."

The bridge or as it was stamped the "wheelhouse" was incredible as Happy opened the door. Huge windows let sun pour in across the wood finish of the huge desk that stretched from wall to wall. Only screens that showed various maps interrupted the surface. Peter paused and peaked back out. Three sailors leaned against the wall in the hall, each one annoyed.

"I had them sent out so we can chat."

Tony Stark stood at a huge ornate steering wheel that was almost as tall as him. He held a glass in one hand and the other was draped over the wheel.

"I only buy ships that have one of these." He set the drink down and then pressed a button. "Come here. Let's go over the damage."

"Thank you Mr. Stark for letting me be here. It's incredible." Even here, he held the glass tighter. He walked across the deck, all the surfaces beautiful and shining. If he touched anything, he would ruin it. There was a tang in the air around Mr. Stark. Peter knew that smell from the few parties he had gone to.

"Nothing gets in the way of yacht day. Not even Spider-Man." Mr. Stark grinned loosely and flipped over his phone onto the console.

A knock at the door nearly made Peter jump to the ceiling. The phone stayed dark as Mr. Stark called in a crew member, ordering them both more of whatever they were drinking. With a nod, the waiter took Peter's drink and then his eyes on dragged across his t-shirt with some curiosity.

Peter shifted in his converse.

Yes, it was a baseball player shouting touchdown. Yes, it was a dumb joke. That was the point. He would have worn his nice shirt for weddings and funerals had he known what today was going to bring.

The waiter smiled and turned.

"Thanks!" Peter called after the closing door.

"Now," Tony said, "let's do the tune up, shall we?"

The phone sprung to life, projecting the suit into the air. Mr. Stark straightened and crossed his arms, scanning the errors messages sprinkled across the graphic.

"Once again, you've come millimeters from cutting off one of the main processors and one, no, two of the secondaries power supplies." He flicked his fingers and the suit spun artfully. "The cooling systems are drained, not at all surprising considering the weather lately. It's been hot as hell, don't you think?"

"It has been." Peter sounded quieter than he wanted to be. He didn't mean to damage the suit. Until he could figure out how to not get stuff thrown at him, the suit would lose a couple threads.

He paused his evaluation to look at Peter. "Stop looking guilty, it's an occupational hazard and it's Sunday. Nobody is allowed to get upset on Sunday. Plus the suit only costs roughly as much as this yacht."

Mr. Stark said that so casually that Peter had to run through his words a few times before the meaning hit. This giant boat with all the white sides and multiple floors was just as expensive as the suit. Peter's hand went out to hold one of the chairs.

Tony returned to his evaluations, hands orchestrating different subscreens with no hesitation. "Now, we've got a little rip under the armpits, Karen has indicated constant tension there. I'm going to let out the seams a little. You're a growing baby boy."

Peter knew that the suit had probably cost millions but it was so different to know something that was equivalent. This boat wasn't even a dream of something that he could own. Never in his life had he looked at a yacht and thought that it was possible for him to have something that expensive. It was beyond him. Now that Spider-Man suit could be traded in for this yacht. That suit was crumpled in the bottom of his backpack five days a week.

The suit disappeared as the waiter came back in and handed Peter another of his drink. Mr. Stark threw back half of his immediately. Peter held onto his glass numbly.

"Oh come on kid. It's just an oil change." His attention caught on Peter. "Nothing different than usual. Don't sweat it."

"Right."

"It'll be ready by the time that we get back to shore. Go with Happy and he'll deliver it from my lab."

"Right."

Mr. Stark's eyes didn't leave him and he snatched up his phone. He typed, finally looking away from him. Peter stared out at the skyline. It was beautiful. His breath burned in his lungs as he held it. Tony didn't look up. Peter took a step back and then another. Maybe if he got a little fresh air, he could put this all behind him.

Peter reached for the doorknob. "Thank you for all of this Mr. Stark. I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing now."

"No, we're not done. Stay here. I'm just yelling at FRIDAY." He waved back, still concentrating on his phone.

Peter's heart sunk. He didn't come closer but he didn't leave either.

"Stand here." He was still playing on the screen but he pointed the spot to his left.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Come on kid. You sound like I'm going to give you a shot or something. I've got people that I pay to do that sorta stuff." The phone disappeared back in his pocket.

The waves slapped against the sides as Peter walked back across the deck, trying to think of anything else. Through his shoes he could feel the vibrations of the engine. He was sure that was a spider thing. Peter tried to replicate Mr. Stark's self assured smile but there was nothing to it.

"Okay, let's have you steer the ship."

"What?"

Peter realized that he was standing right next to the huge wheel. Driving the ship was daunting and something that you needed a license to do. The big red "auto-pilot" button was on. It should stay that way.

"I've barely drove a car. I don't think that this is a good idea."

"It's easy. Put your hand here and here," Tony said pointing.

"There are people aboard."

"Please, I'm almost tipsy and doing it." Tony leaned against the edge. "We won't dock until you give it a try."

Peter gave quick looks between the wheel and him. He knew that Tony would hold him to it and looking out, there was barely anything out there in the ocean. They had sailed beyond the traffic around Lady Liberty and more into the Atlantic. There was nothing to hit.

The red light was still on as he put his glass down. Carefully, Peter put himself behind the wheel and placed his hands on the spots as instructed. It felt cold and smooth but there was a strange amount of traction to it. The ocean was open in all directions. Tony snapped off the auto pilot and the wheel jerked in his hands until he steadied it. Now he could feel the waves, the little jitters that tried to move the boat.

Peter tested it, rotating the wheel and the engine purred under his feet as the yacht moved slightly to the right.

He was actually doing it. He couldn't help the smile on his face.

"What do you think? Like you expected?" Tony took a sip of his drink. He hadn't moved which meant that Peter wasn't doing anything wrong enough to call for an instant correction.

"It is the first time I've ever tried to sail a boat."

"She's a yacht, not a measly _boat_."

"It is the first time I've ever tried to sail a yacht." Peter tried to hold back the laugh. This was more fun than he thought. Little did everyone on board know that it was a fifteen year old sailing them around. Now this was something that he would have to tell Ned and May.

"You aren't doing it quite right. Take your hand off and hold your beverage of choice." Tony handed him back his soda and then he smiled. "Aww…look at you. Now you are sailing this yacht."

All his self control broke. Peter laughed and nearly sent the boat into a sharp turn before he caught himself. Okay. This topped everything. It was the weirdest thing that he had ever done. The thrill tickled him as he leaned back, relaxing into it. He took a sip to finish off what being a billionaire must be like.

Fire was in his throat.

Peter spat out the liquid immediately and the ship jerked as he turned the wheel sharply.

"Whoa hot shot!" Tony yelled, leaping for the autopilot. Peter gasped for breath as he went down to his knees.

What happened to the strawberry shortcake flavor? What had rotted in there instead? Peter looked at his drink. It looked right. The burning feeling continued as he force air down into his lungs. It made it worse. Tears were in his eyes. Was that poison?

"What's amatter kid?" Mr. Stark asked.

"That isn't my drink," he wheezed.

"Not your drink?" Mr. Stark took what remained of his glass from his hand. He sniffed it and laughed. Peter started to get a hold on himself as Tony took a sip.

"Don't do that, it tastes awful."

Tony chuckled. "Somebody put actual gin in this. No wonder you are coughing your guts out."

"That's what gin tastes like?"

Mr. Stark hauled him to his feet. "Let's get you a glass of chocolate milk or something. That's the fix for all kids, right?"

"I'm fifteen, Mr. Stark."

"Barely above an infant."

It was a bit later that Peter found himself sitting at the back of the ship, his feet hanging under the railing and feeling the spray the engine kicked up. A glass of milk was still in his hands, insisted upon by Mr. Stark. Nobody was back here. The engine was a bit noisy and Peter knew that his clothes were going to be stiff with salt by the time that he got back on shore.

He watched the sun set as they started back into the city. The burning in his chest had finally stopped and Mr. Stark had disappeared off to do "meet and greets with my friends".

Peter shook his head and dialed his phone.

It rang a couple times before it connected.

"Hey Aunt May, I'm running a bit late. Guess what? I'm on a yacht. I know, a _yacht_. It's got like three stories and I counted four pools. But even better, I got to drive it and then I drank Gin and now I'm watching the sunset and I thought of you and…of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be? Okay, okay, I'll start at the beginning…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I giggled too much as I wrote this. Also we all have that one fancy shirt. While I won't break canon, I will make Tony Peter's chaotic father figure until I stop writing fanfiction. 
> 
> I had to print this out to edit it. My chapters are usually in the 1.5k range but this guys are much bigger. There is so much to get through. The one I'm writing now is probably going to be 4-5k before I'm done with it. Ah well, practice right?
> 
> What did you think? 
> 
> Thank you for reading as always. -Quin


	3. 32 Steps

_Prompt: "I've never cooked a meal before..."_

"MJ, I need help, could it be possible for you to drop by?" Peter whispered into his phone. The phrase that he practiced sounded even more awkward than he thought it would.

Peter's hand curled around the kitchen counter behind him. His heart thrummed in his ears. It was so late It was that kinda late that made the back of his throat sour and his eyes wanted to droop. He shouldn't have called. He should tough this one out on his own. She was probably mad that he was calling her.

"I could be asleep right now." MJ's voice was clear and crisp on the other side on the phone. She didn't sound mad. That was a good sign.

"I know. But you aren't, right? You picked up on the first ring." The question sprung from him without thinking. He pressed his fist against his mouth. He was trying to ask her help, not accuse her of being awake past midnight.

The pause on the other side made him suck in his breath and hold it. He didn't know what he was going to do if she didn't help. Call Ned? He wouldn't know anything about this.

"True."

Then nothing.

"This is where you explain to me why you are calling at 2 a.m. Also nobody calls anybody anymore," MJ said.

Since Happy didn't do texting and May preferred to be called, he had gotten over his phone phobia. It was his gut instinct to call the people that he needed.

"I'm trying to bake Aunt May a cake and I have no idea what I am doing."

"You're _what_?"

Everything was on the counter laid out in a line but Peter had no idea how all of this was supposed to make the so-called _Best Birthday Cake._ The oven ticked as it continued to heat up. Sweat rolled down his back.

"There's like 32 steps hidden in six headings called 'steps'. It's her birthday tomorrow and she does so much for me and I want to surprise her and I need _help_ , man." It was getting later and later and this cake should have been in the oven yesterday or ideally earlier in today. He would have taken either at this point.

"I'm not sure why you called me but sure. Why not? It's too late for the subway. You'll pay for the Uber?"

"Of course."

"See you soon, loser."

The line went dead.

He sighed and went back to the recipe. It only had six steps for the cake and three of the icing. How could it be this hard? Cooking was something that May seemed to do with some ease. The apartment complex was quiet as he leaned to look down the hall at May's door. The living room pillows were still in place against the cracks. He would have used webbing to make it extra secure but that would have caused questions that he didn't want to answer when MJ arrived.

This cake needed to go right.

MJ's text got him to the door.

"Thanks for coming," he said as he slipped through into the hall, "she's asleep so we have to be extra quiet in there."

"Let's make this cake." MJ shrugged, looking like she could care less, and walked past him into the lit kitchen. Just her being there made him know that things were going to be much simpler here on out.

Peter snapped the lock shut and followed her. It wasn't the first time that she had been in his place. Usually it was for decathlon or Ned was having a game night. The apartment was pretty equidistant between the two of them and May always made snacks.

She paused, holding up the flour.

"Geez, this is three adjective flour." She turned. "Where-Peter-Do I need to ask what happened to your face?"

Peter touched his eye, trying to remember how the puffiness got there. "….um, no."

"Cool. I'll just assume that you got beaten up again."

"It's not true. I banged it on a taxi door."

That was as good as his lies got from the truth. He looked in the front door mirror. It did look pretty bad but he had seen worse. Most of the redness and certainly that dark purple was going to be gone in the morning. Sometimes the achiness, soreness, sharp pains, that internal stuff, took a little bit longer. He didn't mind it. Other people didn't ask questions about that because they couldn't see it.

"Peter Parker took a _taxi_ and then got a black eye from it." MJ repeated slowly and sighed. "Whatever. I'll assume that the other guy looks better. Where is the recipe?"

"Here."

She looked at his phone and her lips narrowed as she read. Peter felt the silence. He wished that they could put on some music but it might wake May and then MJ could judge his bad taste. He was sure his taste was bad. No, the silence was best. He shuffled his feet closer together.

"Did you put the oven at 350 degrees?"

"Yeah, I think I did."

She glanced at the oven. "It does say 350 on it. The next step is to butter, flour and line the pans?"

He held out the pans. He had gotten a few steps in before he realized that he was way over his head.

"There is butter, flour and parchment paper in there." She said. The butter had melted and pooled at the bottom and the flour was globby. She switched back over to the instructions.

"Let's whisk some stuff." She lifted her chin. "Come sous chef, let's bake."

Peter cracked a smile. "Yeah, let's do that."

Whisking the flour and other powdery substances together was tricky. The whisk made the flour go everywhere. Neither one of them could make it do the job otherwise. Every cooking show Peter had seen, they had used the whisk so quickly that the materials magically managed to stay in the bowl.

"You know, I can't tell if it is 'thoroughly combined' or not, all the stuff disappeared immediately." Peter stopped after a few more minutes of struggling and seeing the waves of the mixture falling onto the counter.

"We're fine." MJ blinked from the instructions. She was spending a lot of time on them.

"There's a lot of flour everywhere."

"I think we're fine?"

"We're fine," he said.

Peter's T-shirt had gone a color from black to gray and MJ's jacket looked like it was a cow by the time that they were done.

It didn't bother either one of them.

The counter was a completely other matter and it was something he didn't look at.

The next step was to beat the softened butter with an electric mixer until it was fluffy and creamy. Peter wasn't sure how melted butter was supposed to become those two adjectives but then again, he didn't know anything about cooking.

They ended up going out on his pity porch. The space was barely big enough to stand on, let alone both of them squatting awkwardly with the mixing bowl in between them. Peter had the other two ingredients, egg whites and vanilla, in smaller bowls balanced on both knees. Separating eggs had almost killed him.

MJ grunted to shove the door closed. May couldn't hear their squeaky mixer from out here. That was the hope.

He looked up at MJ who was watching at him like he was an idiot. Her hair was pulled into a bun but there were free strands dancing around in the Queens air.

A lot of this was built on hope.

"You've got flour on your cheek." Her eyes narrowed. Just like that, she reached up and flicked it off.

The brush boggled his mind. MJ touched his face. His brain short circuited, running in a tight circle around the tiny sensation. Everything went numb like how it had been when that taxi had collided with his face at eighty miles an hour. This time it was an entirely pleasant experience.

The bowl with the egg whites smashed against the porch.

The screams from several stories below woke him up.

"Go, go, go." MJ whispered and jerked open the window. The yelling continued below him as Peter realized he just dumped raw eggs on a guy from a great height.

"Peter, this is not the time to freeze." MJ grasped his shirt, sending the other bowl with vanilla tumbling.

The confused shouting doubled until it was cut off by the window closing.

Peter stared his his apartment, his back against the windowsill trying to understand what had just happened. The bowls had been on his knees one second and now he was here, vaguely smelling of both with his heart pounding against his throat. He was almost mortified. The feeling was crawling up his throat.

MJ was smashed up next to him, shaking with her head in her hands.

"Are you crying?" He whispered. She must have felt the same way that he felt.

She looked up at him, tears coming from down both eyes. "Peter."

"Yeah?"

"You just-" She hiccuped. "You just dumped _egg_ on a stranger."

She started shaking again, grinning like a manic. It was giggles. MJ was trying not to laugh.

After a few gasps, she continued. "Then you threw your vanilla on him."

The tears ran now.

As terrible as Peter felt, this was the best unexpected outcome that could have happened.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

Her head dropped into arms as she stifled the noise.

Peter couldn't help the smile on his face. His hand was on her shoulder, he realized, he wasn't sure how it got there, but that was completely okay with him.

They ended up mixing the butter in the bathroom with the fan on.

It was another half an hour later when they looked at black sludge in the bowl. It was still bubbling. At some point it had started doing that and neither one of them knew how or why.

MJ sighed. "This is wrong."

"Baking isn't going to work out. It'll be okay. I'll buy cupcakes or something."

She shook her head. "No need. Call Ned. He's probably still up. He actually knows how to bake."

"I thought that you knew how to bake?" He made a face.

"No. Not every girl knows how to bake."

"You were so confident."

"I was doing what I do with my sister which is that I pretend to know everything. Usually she figures it out."

"You lied?"

"No." Her face scrunched. "You were depending on me so we did the best we could." She walked away. "Call Ned. I'm going to drink some of your expired soda."

He watched her walk into the living room and fling herself down on the couch. He felt like he had been tricked somehow. The cake bubbled against the pan and the fat was pooling on the top.

Regardless, if the cake could still happen, it needed to. He pulled his phone out and went out into the hall.

"Ned, I need backup, can you come over?" Peter whispered.

"Peter…It's like two in the morning…why are you up?" Ned asked slow with sleep before brightening, "Is this Spider-Man stuff? Do you need me to hack a moon? Preprogram an escape route? Send an Uber? Call 911?"

Peter stared at a dent in the wall trying to process all those questions.

"No, I was trying to bake a cake for May for her birthday and it went wrong so I called MJ to come over and it turns out that she doesn't know how to bake so we're kinda screwed."

"Yeah. MJ really doesn't know how to cook. I thought you knew that after those really bad chocolate chip cookies?"

That question made his teeth hurt again from chewing so long to get such a small thing down.

"That wasn't her mother?"

"No," he said slowly, "Okay, okay, this still qualifies as guy-in-the-chair stuff. I'll be there as soon as I can sneak out of the house."

Peter skimmed the recipe. "I owe you one."

"Okay. You guys are terrible cooks." Ned allowed a glop of the cake to fall off his spoon. "We're starting over. This stuff on top almost looks like mucus. It's like you've never cooked."

"I've never cooked a meal before." Peter wished those words hadn't come out of his mouth by the dead stare that Ned gave him.

"You may not want to…" MJ cut in but it was too late. Ned brought the spoon up to taste the batter. The consequential gagging noise could have been enough to wake May.

"We may have also switched the sugar and salt."

Peter added, "by accident."

Ned scrambled to the sink and gulped water straight from the tap. Peter looked at the pans of black substance. At least it had finally stopped bubbling.

"We're starting completely over and you aren't going to do anything without prior approval. We are getting rid of this before it kills someone." Ned's shirt was splattered with dark spots as he took the pans. "How much salt was _in_ that?"

"We added extra sugar so it was one cup?" Peter looked at MJ.

"Two."

It was a good idea at the time. The cake simply didn't taste the cakes that they remembered from their childhood. Ned slogged the tar into the trash.

"We're going to start over."

The rest of the half an hour went smoother than the first two hours. Ned decoded the recipe without a blink and soon Peter was beating the egg white until "soft peaks" and MJ was flouring the pans by actually putting flour on the sides. The egg mixture was only allowed back into the house from the porch when it could stand up on its own. That wasn't something that he knew that eggs could do.

"How do you never bring up cooking Ned?" Peter asked as he helped hold a bowl so the ingredients could be "incorporated".

"It's kinda girly and my mom makes me take lessons with her because I will had to fed myself in college and she likes to bake." He moved the spoon and the other bowl around with ease."I didn't get it but now, no offense, I kind of get it."

"We did manage to beat the butter."

"From how you described it, you liquefied it."

"No egg on our faces about it," MJ said. Peter glanced up. She was forcing a smile back. Peter's chest burned as a laugh died there. Ned was hunched over the bowl, the spoon moving to get the white stuff to mix with the black stuff. She blinked and went back concentrating on holding part of the bowl. It was strange to have an inside joke that didn't include Ned.

"Okay, we've got to get this in the oven before it loses any more air." He hurried off to pour it into the proper pans.

The cakes needed to bake for thirty minutes and it was way past late. Even Peter was starting to feel it as they threw all their dirty dishes in the dishwasher. It was decided that an alarm was going to wake them all up from the couch. MJ sprawled across the recliner while they took the couch.

Ned was asleep almost immediately. Thankfully it was Friday. They wouldn't need to be up early tomorrow. The oven clicked and hummed as it baked the cake. Peter checked his phone. The city had been relatively quiet. That unwound a pressure in his chest as he threw his phone on the coffee table. Good. Getting clocked in the face by a taxi was enough for him to call it a night but he didn't want to make it worse.

How many times had he come home with some minor injury and May had put ice on it or grabbed another extra large band-aid? Then came the mornings after where he would go on telling the wild stories that the news never got right. Barely from here, he could see the whiteboard with scribbles all over it. She kept it up religiously of all _his_ activities and things he should remember. How many times had she saved him from oversleeping?

Yes, this was all worth it for that cake.

His eyes drooped and then he let himself fall asleep.

Coughs woke him up and the creaking of the oven door. He blinked to see May standing over the oven as black smoke curled out into the kitchen.

"What are you doing Peter?" She asked as she hacked and pulled two very black cake pans from the oven. "Are you a stress baker now?"

"You're awake…" It was the only thing Peter could say because it was the only thing that he was in his mind. She shouldn't be standing in rumpled pjs with a smoking pan in her hands. He tried to get up but only got halfway before he collapsed on a pillow. Something in his back and face ached really badly.

"Hello Mrs. Parker." MJ struggled upwards. "You're supposed to be asleep."

May jerked. "MJ, what are you doing here?"

Ned groaned and rolled onto the floor.

"Ned?"

Peter found himself on his feet stumbling to May. "You should go back to bed."

"I think we were about ten minutes away from a kitchen fire."

"It's a surprise…" He leaned against the counter and made some motions with his hands that would hopefully send her back to bed.

"A surprise? The kitchen fire?" She looked down. "A birthday cake?"

Peter looked back. Ned drooled on the ground and MJ was curled up against the back of the chair. They weren't going to help. The cake looked cracked and black on the top like a candle that had been burnt. It smelled even worse.

"…in theory."

May moved so quickly that Peter barely registered that she was gone from behind the counter until she was hugging him.

"That's incredibly sweet."

He was slow to follow the embrace. "It's burnt."

"Well, _most_ of it is. Let's see if we can find anything salvageable."

They ended up with one of the cakes dumped out on a cookie sheet. May had tried to cut it with a knife but Peter had taken over sawing the rock. The black cake snapped open, the edges sharp and jagged. From there, May took a fork and tested the surfaces until at one point, the prongs sunk in. A chocolate chunk hung to the end and she ate it.

Peter winced. He should have paid more attention. The alarm had been set without sound.

"Well," May said, "That tastes pretty good."

"No way."

"Actually yes. It's not bad."

"Happy birthday, Aunt May. Thanks for everything."

She smiled softly. "Thank you, Pet. I know you won't say it around your friends but I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am such a sucker for MJ getting Peter in trouble by accident. I dipped my toe into MJ/Peter seriously for the first time and I've got to say...I'm starting to get it.
> 
> What do you think of this one?
> 
> Stay safe and well.
> 
> Thank you for reading. -Quin


	4. A Day Job Shadowing Tony Stark

_Prompt: I broke every one of my New Year_ _'s resolutions that day._

Peter adjusted his one good shirt in the reflection of the elevator. The blue fabric was still saggy in the shoulders. Even after every physical change, he still wasn't good enough for a proper shirt. He pulled the buttons straighter and brushed a hand through his hair. Yeah, he looked like a scholarship winning high schooler.

"Don't get your hopes up, I do this everyday and it isn't exciting," Happy said as he watched the floor number tick up.

"I dunno, Happy. I'm pretty excited about job shadowing." He straightened fully. The shirt was not impressed.

Happy's eyebrows rose. "Tony and 'jobs' are two things that intermix very infrequently. Today won't be any different."

The backpack on the shoulder kinda ruined the overall 'scholarship' look but he might need his suit. Who _knew_ what they were going to get into.

"Is this actually a secret mission? 'Cause I'm ready-"

"-No."

"Oh."

Happy sighed. "Look kid. This scholarship needs to have a little real-ness to it after your school asked for details. Nobody has seen anything that gives you, a scholarship recipient, any credit. So you'll be following Tony around so a bunch of people can see you following Tony around and then we're going to take photos of you and post it on social media so then millions of people will see you following Tony around. That's the day."

"But I get to hang out with Mr. Stark all day?"

"Yes."

Peter shrugged as the elevator dinged. "It doesn't sound too bad."

They walked out. "You're hopeless. I know you know but keep going down the hallway and to the right."

He was a few offices away from a great day. Peter broke into a jog to get started even sooner.

"Hey kid," Happy shouted, "Do you have an account to be tagged on Instagram or Twitter or whatever?"

Peter half turned, "Yeah I do. The username is-"

 _TheRealSM,_ his mind filled in. He paused midstep as he wrestled the words back.

"Oh wait. Nope! I don't." Peter finished as he started a full run away. "I forgot. Another guy I know does."

He barely caught Happy shake his head as the elevator doors closed on him.

The black carpet was plush under his shoes as long lines of modern lights lit his way. Most of the doors were some sort of carved steel with names on them that he half remembered from reading _Top Twenty Most Influential Scientists In New York City._ He could maybe meet them today. Wow.

The right side opened up to a waiting area. A guy sat at the desk, typing into his computer that looked like it cost as much as a car. Mr. Stark's glass office walls were behind him. Vines overgrew a pot on the corner. A picture of a dog was sucked away behind the plant. Peter couldn't see it as the guy looked up at him with the glare of someone who was disappointed with anyone who stood in that spot.

"Can I help you with something?" He droned.

It was funny. Peter only knew about the dog picture because Harri really liked Spider-Man. When that guy came to this office last week, the receptionist was already pulling out his phone to show him the latest cute dog photo of Spice. She was named after the Spice girls of course.

"Hey. How can I help you? Are you lost?" Harri asked again.

Peter blinked and smiled. "Oh yeah. I'm Peter Parker?"

He went for the badge that Happy had thrown over his neck. His fingers missed the plastic about four times before he was able to bring it up to show him. He leaned forward so he could look at the picture and tried to have the same half loopy smile. He could see Mr. Stark through the glass wall. He was pacing around, waving his arms.

"You're the high school kid."

"Yes. Peter Parker."

"I got that."

Right.

"Is that a dog?" Peter asked as he peered over, still not actually able to see the photo but wanting Harri to smile over something.

He pointed to a chair. "Mr. Stark is in a phone call. He'll be with you as soon as he can."

Peter nodded and took the seat. Okay. Well maybe he needed to warm up to someone that he didn't know. That was cool. Surely, he would be here a lot today and he could win Harri over both as Spider-Man and as Peter Parker.

It was strange to watch Harri work as he waited. Usually they chatted over Spice and whatever had been happening lately in NYC. Instead the clicking of a keyboard and his own breathing filled the air.

Mr. Stark took about ten minutes to get off his phone call. Most of that time was spent yelling at the view. Peter worked the phone in his hand, flipping it over and over, feeling the cracks in the screen and snapping the pieces back into position behind in the plastic cover.

"Hey '01 get in here." Tony popped open the door, the call still yammering in the background. The noise cut off as he turned back to yell, "I understand that but do you _understand_ the consequence on my ego?"

The door muted the voices as it closed again.

Harri didn't even look up.

Peter couldn't help the excitement buzzing in his chest. The light on the door was green so the handle moved in his hands. Tony sat at his desk, throwing a baseball back and forth between his hands. New York's skyline painted behind him as he shifted around in the black leather. He rolled his eyes as the caller chattered. Peter quickly filled the guest chair.

"It would be about an hour maybe more but think about-"

"Plus hair, makeup and god knows what other pimping they'll want. What if they want me to _hold_ something?"

" _Tony_." Peter recognized the voice then. He wasn't sure if it was the sigh that came with the name or the exhaustion.

Mr. Stark leaned forward on the desk. "Yes, _Miss Potts_?"

"I'm going to schedule the charity photo shoot for today, in the afternoon, just how you like things, with absolutely no notice."

"Not-"

"I'll be adding it to your schedule."

The call ended. Peter had to stop the smile on his face. Mr. Stark sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair as he stared off into space. He blinked a few times and then he snapped his attention to Peter. Peter had seen the effects of calls like this but had never heard in person what was called the "Potts manhandle".

"Well. Kid. Today is starting wonderfully."

"I can see that, sir."

He took a drink from a mug inscribed with _I_ _'m A Genius_ on it.

"Forgot about this job shadowing thing today. Welcome officially to Stark happened to your snarky t-shirts? I don't remember anyone giving you permission to act like an upstanding citizen. Is that _gel_ in your hair?"

"Well-"

He waived. "It was rhetorical. I can see it from here. Let's see what the devils of my life have planned today? FRIDAY?"

Peter fought the wild urge to run his hands through his hair. There must be a glob somewhere he had missed. May had already gone through it once. She had said that it looked good. Peter pressed his toes hard against the ground instead.

The AI hummed and the schedule was laid out for the rest of the day neatly for both of them. Time was blocked off in neat hourly moments ranging from "lunch" to "lab time". That last one caught his attention. Lab time? They were going to play in the lab together? He would get to work with some of the machines that made the Iron Man suits? That made his suit?

"Excuse me, Tony," FRIDAY said, "I am receiving an update and reconfiguring your calendar."

The schedule shivered and then from two o'clock onward showed "Charity Photo Shoot :)".

Lab time disappeared.

Tony took a long drink of coffee. "Well, we should be in the middle of a building tour right now. So let's get on that. I can show you the parts that I know."

He got up and left, mug in hand. The schedule hovered and then it was gone as well. Peter sat in his chair staring at the view where the schedule used to be. The disappointment curled around his stomach and tried to settle there. He worked his hand through his hair and then pulled on his shirt to get the buttons to be straight again. It could still be a good morning. He was sure.

The building tour was interesting. The building was amazing. After the original tower had been sold, Stark Industries had bought a smaller skyscraper to make sure that nobody forgot them. Part of Peter laughed at the idea of a "smaller" skyscraper. It was huge. The inside was as amazing as the Iron Man suits. The hallways and offices were modern and tech had been integrated seamlessly.

Tony meandered through it all, pointing to bathrooms as casually as he introduced Issac Edmonds, the winner of the Wolf Prize two years ago. Peter knew Issac's resume, he had written a paper on him to get into high school. They shook hands. That alone almost made him feel like he was having an out of body experience. Mr. Edmonds was a person. No one would ever believe that Peter Parker had shook hands with Issac Edmonds.

"Come on, we've got to find the photographer. Maybe we'll swing back by for a photo." Tony dragged him away before he could ask anything about electrodynamics. The scientist nodded and walked away towards the bathrooms.

"Mr. Stark, that was _Issac Edmonds,_ " he whispered.

"I hope that's right." He took a drink out of his mug. "I did the interview for him."

"What does he work on?"

"Whatever he wants for the most part. He gets a touch needy at times but every once and a while I'll need him for nanotech so I'll just swing by."

Peter's mind was having trouble processing all of this. There was a whole other level of world out there.

"Check out this door." Tony stopped so short that he was an inch short of almost running into him.

He looked. All the office doors were steel and the name of the person inside was engraved on the front. The rest of the wall alternated between blacked out glass and drywall. As they had walked past the other doors, he had seen glimpses of new tech. He had to stop himself from asking about each of them.

This question might be a trick.

"The door is blank."

He waved his watch over the sensor and it popped open. "Good. You still have your eyes. Come on in."

The lights snapped on as they walked through a small receptionist area with a desk and a couple chairs covered in white fabric. Mr. Stark didn't pause as he moved to the office door and opened it. Peter stayed a few feet behind. The place was stale with disuse. Dust flew up with every step. Why were they here?

"Look at this, kid." Tony held open the door to the next room. Light streamed in.

Any nervousness died at the wonder of the lab. It was huge, probably the size of the basketball court at school and it was completely empty. White tile reflected the sunlight that came through the windows showing a gorgeous view of the city. Peter's shoes squealed against the ceramic as he took in the potential of what the space could be. It was perfect for a lab, a space to work that wasn't shared with a bedroom or with worry of setting off the fire alarm. The blankness made him selfishly fill it up. The four inches of empty space on his desk felt like an ant as he walked forward, staring at all the electrical plugs stored around him.

"It suits you," Tony said behind him.

Peter turned. "What did you say?"

Mr. Stark was smiling, leaning up against the back wall. "In a few years, if everything keeps going well, you'll need a space for your own tech."

"You can't be serious, Mr. Stark." Peter laughed and swung his arms. "This is huge, giant and Issac Edmonds is like three doors down going to the bathroom and I know all the other names on the doors. I'm nobody."

He shrugged. "I can do what I want but I've got to warn you: you'll have to be part of the company, as much of a pain as that will be. 9-5 and all that shit."

 _And benefits and insurance and a pension plan_ , his mind added.

Peter didn't know what to say. He took a few steps. Stark Industries. He could work here someday. He could be a couple floors down from Iron Man. He would work in Manhattan. This spot was amazing for getting around the city as Spider-Man. Something was stuck in his throat, he realized, and he had a shake inside too.

"Smile, I'm taking a photo for the books." Tony had his phone out. Peter wanted to brush his face but he forced himself not to. Instead he crossed his arms and tried to look like a guy who could be here one day. Mr. Stark adjusted the angle a few times and looked over his phone. Peter saw something there. It was small, just a flicker under the ego, and Peter could have completely imagined it but Tony was, in fact, a bit proud.

It was gone in a second.

The billionaire straightened. The phone dropped to his side.

"Come on, kid." He waived and headed to the door. Peter frantically took his own photo of the lab before falling in line behind him. He wanted to stay but there was no excuse. Tony kept his eyes strictly ahead of them until they were back out in the hall. Peter didn't break the silence.

"There is a catch." Now there was a different smile on Tony's face. A one that Peter didn't like the look of.

"What's that?"

"You're going to graduate college."

Peter's stomach dropped. "But-"

He felt a poke in his shoulder. "No buts and you better invite me to your graduation. I'll need proof, Peter Parker."

Peter opened his mouth but he beat him to it. "You're too smart not to get a diploma. End of conversation."

He sighed into his chest and barely heard the compliment. That lab seemed further away than he imagined.

"That almost sounded fatherly," Tony said to himself in surprise, "Let's get those beauty shots, youngin'."

The rest of the morning was spent parading Peter around with a photographer that knew what she was doing. Peter was walked around at first, looking at different parts of the architecture. Harri produced a real looking certificate and they went into a regular conference room where Tony gave the paper to him about a hundred different ways.

After those, they moved to the "Iron Man Room" or the showroom. Different Marks of the suit stood along one wall behind glass and were lit in ways that made every curve of design shine. They felt like they were in a museum. Even a few had been used in combat. Armor was blasted away to show the raw electronics and the padded interior. The quote _Everything is Achievable Through Technology_ was scrawled across the top of the display.

The photographer positioned them in front of these and arranged them to be shaking hands over the certificate.

Peter could hardly believe any of this. He wanted to pinch himself.

Spider-Man had shaken the hand of the major. He had taken multiple magazine cover photos with Iron Man. He had been on red carpets with a black tie slung around his neck, laughing at the paparazzi. He had swung across the front cover of the New York Times. Not that he could forget that one, Aunt May had a clever way of reminding him by framing that edition and putting it in their bathroom closet where no one else would see.

Nobody cared about Peter Parker.

That was okay. He always told himself that he didn't like the attention.

Why did it feel so good? To do something like this without a mask? Here he was shaking the hand of Tony Stark like he deserved it.

Tony Stark waved his limp hand around. "Earth to the child? You there?"

"Yeah, sorry, sir. Got a little lost."

"Looks like we'll have to take lunch. Did you get the photos you need?" He dropped Peter's hand and left him for the camera. Peter stared at the suits. Several of them he had seen in action. Peter talked about the "internship" all the time but it was always just noise to fill the air for an excuse. Maybe that wasn't actually the case.

Tony excused himself from lunch with Peter mentioning something about needing some time to work on "things". It was probably that he was tired of playing host and wanted quiet time. Fine with him. He could sit in the dining hall area by himself and catch up on all the notifications that were stacking up on his phone.

He sat with a plate piled high with incredible smelling food and ran through all the pictures that he had received. The Stragglers were attempting to speak entirely through gifs today. While some might consider it completely ridiculous, they found it perfect.

By all the drowning gifs, Ned was studying for the SAT. MJ's intermittent references to random movies made him think that she had nothing but time on her hands. He sighed after posting a gif of a bunch of cameras taking a photo and then another of someone who was clearly tired of smiling. Ned's reply was almost instantaneous. A guy paced around on his screen with the subtitle _Oh It_ _'s just so hard to be famous._

He snorted into his soda.

The staff in the cafeteria chatted comfortably at tables around him. The thought was foreign that he could be working with these people in a couple years. He chewed on part of a sandwich. Big fat college was before that. Being Spider-Man was so exciting and different, he wouldn't need another job. Plus Pepper and Stark Industries monopolized the market on Spider-Man memorabilia and his share of the profit was handled by the company and May. He got thirty dollars of it a week. It was an incredible allowance for someone his age.

Even better, May had stopped worrying about money as much. That stress melting away had been a welcome relief.

There was no need to go to college.

Except now there was.

He pulled out his phone again as it buzzed. MJ had responded to Ned's popular gif with a Mean Girls Lindsay Lohan saying _yes._

He leaned on his elbows to start searching for an appropriate gif. He needed to step up his game.

The photo shoot turned out to be a different experience than Peter thought. Happy gathered him and they went to the car. Mr. Stark was already in and barely said anything besides a quiet grumbling that Pepper should expect revenge. For Peter, it was the car that took his attention. It was odd to be in one. The subway and walking was the way of life here. He had no use for taxis, even late at night, because he could suit up and make his way across the stars.

"What if they want to dress me up in something ridiculous? Like a suit and tie?" Tony asked aimlessly. His phone was pinched between his thumb and forefinger and he spun it.

Peter looked at Happy for the answer to this but all he did was continue to stare at the road.

"They might ask me to smile," Tony muttered to himself, "I don't do that. The whole premise of this shoot makes me look vane."

Now it was Peter's turn to look out the window, shoving back the grin that was trying to take over his face. It was easy to spot their destination by the barricades and the shouting. Tony continued his chatter even as he climbed out of the car and waved at the cameras.

Peter waited a few seconds longer before following him, trying to keep out of the limelight. He held his breath and stood straight. With the suit, it didn't matter. The press did 180s on Spider-Man every few days. They said he was a criminal and then he was a hero. Not that they cared now as he got shouts asking who he was.

He stuck by Happy as Mr. Stark was rushed off to some trailer. People hurried around, working around a skate park. It was closed to the public but several skaters were in the dipped bowls doing tricks. A guy was posing in front of the camera while they figured out the timing on getting a guy to do what looked like it might be a rocket air or an impossible.

Happy found a column and claimed it to be his own. He leaned against it and scrolled through his phone. Peter wanted to wander but without Happy or Tony, he lost his credibility and would be hauled off the set.

"You said this was for charity. What charity?" Peter shifted his weight, trying to be comfortable with all these people around. They all had jobs and rushed to get them done. He was in the way and nothing more.

"It's a puff piece." Happy put his phone away. "Stark donated a large sum to preventing children and teen homelessness."

"Oh. Wow."

Happy side eyed him. "…out of nowhere."

"What do you mean? You think Mr. Stark did that because me?"

"It's a guess." He shrugged. "Come on, let's go get some coffee. He's about to come out of that trailer a very unhappy man."

"Why?"

He didn't get an answer to that question.

They had made it across the skate park to the refreshments when the angry shouts started.

"Are you kidding me?" Tony said, "I can't be in the suit in a skatepark and holding a board. Who thought this was a good idea? I am Iron Man! Where is Happy?"

"The suit is already here. He'll survive. Coffee?" Happy said as he poured himself the coffee. He was tucked behind the tent cover, completely out of sight from the rest of the staff. He hunkered down over the cup, stirring sugar in.

"Where is Happy? We're leaving." Tony continued. The coffee smell filled up the tent and Happy brought it to his lisp. A smile was on his face.

"Should you…you, know…?" Peter awkwardly went for a styrofoam cup.

He took a drink. "The man is in his forties and I am not paid enough. Doesn't that danish look incredible?"

Indignant shouting echoed as Happy slowly worked through the sweet. Peter couldn't help but wonder what he was savoring, the danish or the anger that was radiating in his general direction. He tucked himself away because if Tony found him, he would have to give up the Head of Security's hiding spot.

The Iron Man suit did arrive about ten minutes later after Tony had stopped yelling. Before all of this, Peter did not realize how many people were on the other side of a single professional photo. He thought that Spider-Man got the special treatment but that was laughable compared to the extras, people holding lights and a huge camera.

Job shadowing was giving him a whole different outlook.

His phone buzzed. A jewelry store was reported to have gunmen inside looking to take hostages and rob the whole place. It was only a few blocks away. Whenever those texts came in, Peter got a flicker of panic. There was a choice to be made. He looked at the door and then at Iron Man in the suit lifting a skater kid.

Thankfully the decision was always easy to make.

"Happy," Peter whispered, "I've got to go."

"Yeah?"

"There's a robbery."

He barely moved at the words. "Go on. I'll take care of this."

"Thanks."

Peter got a few feet away at a dead run when the sound of thrusters roared in his ears. Turning, he saw Iron Man had stopped posing and was burning a path across the concrete. He landed between him and the exit. His shoes squealed to make the stop in time. The face plate opened to show a very interested Tony Stark.

"Hey kid, kid, _kid,_ where are you going?"

"I've got to go Mr. Stark. Things came up." Adrenaline was already started to run. The Spider-Man suit was calling him from inside his backpack. It was time to put it on. People were in danger.

"Things? That jewelry thing? You've got a few seconds." Stark looked him over and Peter was aware of how he was breathing heavier. "Look at you being responsible. Talk about a heroic transformation."

"I wasn't bad before. Please-" He took a tense step to the left. It was time to go.

Stark mirrored him and continued without pause. "No, I want to reminisce for a second. Do you remember that day I found you in that quaint little apartment in the middle of Queens? I broke every one of my New Year's resolutions that day."

"I didn't think that you made those." He was half listening to Tony. Karen was continuing to feed him information on the situation at the store on his phone. The texts were every few seconds. The police were on their way but they were still far out. He could be there faster. By the low buzzing that he could hear, he could guess that he wasn't the only one keeping tabs.

"It was a hard year so I made one." Mr. Stark waved carelessly. "I told myself that I wasn't going to get involved with any more superheroes. I had too many to handle already. Then look at this, a spider kid."

"Mr. Stark-"

He stood aside. "I've got to wrap up this circus. Go do your 'things'. Any more exposure to Peter Parker and my teeth might start falling out. That's not good for the press photos."

"Thank you for today."

"Get out of here Webster."

Peter ran off to go save fifteen civilians. Mr. Stark's words floated through his head but had to drop them. There were bigger things to do. People needed saving and that was his job. It was what he did best.

It was a couple hours later when Spider-Man strolled into the office of Tony Stark. Harri, who had been giving his screen a death stare, jumped immediately out of his chair.

"Hey Spider-Man. What can I do for you?" Harri led in with the typical handshake. Something that he almost always required before any meeting or further request.

Peter could not stop smiling behind his mask. It took all his self control to keep the laughter from his voice as he shook the receptionist's hand. "I was wondering if Mr. Stark was around? I wanted to ask him something."

"No, sorry. He's out. I can call him if it's an emergency."

Of course Peter knew that Mr. Stark was still out. That photoshoot was supposed to take hours and Tony had said afterward they were going to "escape the mundaneness of life". This wasn't about Tony Stark at all.

"Nah, that's okay."

"Well, before you go, do you want to see Spice dressed up as a pumpkin?"

"Of course I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an interesting short story for me.
> 
> I'm not in love with...any of it but there were moments that I wanted to share (especially Tony with lab and Peter getting to realize that he deserves attention). I think part of it is that it is "too big" for me.
> 
> I teasingly call this a "behemoth" because it is 2-3,000 words more than I'm used to for a chapter and took me a week to write.
> 
> Ah well. Regardless of my self criticisms, I hope that you enjoyed it. What did you think?
> 
> Stay safe and thank you for reading as always.
> 
> Quin


	5. Up a Tree

_Prompt: He fiddled nervously with his phone and wondered about_ _…_

"Peter, do the shake with me."

"May. No."

"You need to do the shake. Get those nerves out."

"No."

"Here. I'll show you."

"Stop, _please._ People are looking."

"I haven't seen you this nervous since that music recital. Do you remember that one? Where you-"

"Yes. Yes, I do. Also, I'm not nervous."

"Oh. My _mistake_ then."

"If you aren't nervous, well, let's enjoy the shopping. Pears or apples this week?"

"I've got no reason to be nervous. I'm just hanging out with MJ and Ned. Here. At the farmer's market," Peter said to no one as he looked around at the amassing crowds of people. Vendor's flags danced in the air and someone was burning popcorn somewhere in the square.

"Hey. Mr. Not Nervous. Untuck those hands from under you armpits. It's giving the wrong impression."

"I was holding them there." He regretted the stutter that came with his response.

May smiled and addressed the seller. "I'll take five pounds of each."

May had insisted that she wanted to come with him that morning and then split up at the market. Apparently, they were out of almost every green substance. Peter had noticed his sandwiches had switched from BLTs to swiss and probably turkey recently.

Not that he minded.

"Growing boy?" The vendor asked.

"Always. I can barely keep him on the ground. Isn't that right?"

"Yeah…" Peter scanned the crowd.

The people all looked the same. They had heads and necks and shirts and it was impossible to tell the difference when they blobbed together. Had he been wearing the mask, he could ask Karen to scan the crowd but even then that was creepy. All he knew was that neither MJ or Ned were there yet.

Or specifically MJ wasn't there yet. Recently, he'd gotten this strange sense about her. He could always pick MJ out no matter where they were. He tried to ignore it. He wasn't sure why. For everyone else, he didn't get that idea. Even May had sunk up on him recently when he was pouring cereal.

May zipped open his backpack. "You're a strong boy, right?"

"Hmm?" He half turned to see five pounds of apples dump into his bag and cover the suit rumpled in the bottom.

"I'll take the other five pounds." She patted him on the shoulder. "You should join Ned in the popcorn line if you aren't intentionally ignoring him. Have fun and try not to get too far up in that head of yours."

How had he missed Ned standing with his head buried in his phone thirty feet away from him?

"Bye, May," He said but she was gone, already four vendors down looking at eggplant. He fiddled nervously with his phone and wondered about how that happened. He needed to gather his attention. He needed to be smart and aware and he was none of those things. Swallowing all the produce smells, he weaved his way over. He needed to not be nervous but every time he thought about it the feeling got worse. It wasn't Ned. So by deduction it had to be MJ.

The flour on the cheek thing.

Something had changed.

It was like a spot the difference puzzle, but no matter how much he looked at the before and after, everything appeared to be the same. He was friends with MJ. He was still friends with MJ. They chatted about decathlon and played Uno after. She made funny jokes and he never had a smart response until three hours later. Yet, it crawled up the back of his brain that something was inherently different.

Now, he didn't know where to look when he talked to her and well, he was _nervous_.

May was right. He was way too far in his head about this.

Ned didn't miss a beat as Peter poked him. "Did you hear the thing about Doom Eternal?"

"What?"

"People broke the code. They're starting to mod the game and things are looking better and better." Ned held up his phone to show a screenshot of someone aiming a pink stuffed unicorn at a demon. "It shoots pure streams of rainbows."

"I love it."

"I wish I had a PC strong enough for it. We could have so much fun." They shuffled forward in line. The burned popcorn smell grew stronger. "Have you seen MJ?"

"No."

"Cool. Have you had to suit up today?"

"It's like 9 in the morning. What time do you think I get up?"

Ned raised an eyebrow. "Or did you ever go to bed?"

Peter laughed. "I am not a zombie yet. I sleep. Sometimes."

"Oh darn. I was working on the vaccine."

"Funny." He looked around. No MJ. She was the one that arranged this whole thing. Supposedly, she should be here first.

"So was last night calm or what?"

"Chill, nothing big." Peter often wondered if Ned was asking out of curiosity or habit. With all the press that Spider-Man got, it was simple to know the answer to what happened last night. Once Ned went straight into asking details about a shootout, Peter made a face. He didn't need his friend stalking him like that. Ned got the hint.

"How about you?" Peter asked.

"Mom insisted on a meal around the table but then afterward nobody wanted to be around each other so bonus video game time."

The crowds grew as the tourists came in and flocked the flower stands. The real New Yorkers concentrated on the produce and the staples. As much as Peter liked the idea of getting a bouquet for May, these stands charged triple what he could get at a good grocery store.

"I'll get a large if you'll chip in a little," Ned said.

The flowers were still free to stare at from a distance. The pinks and purples were unusual colors as the light caught on the petals. Even with the extra expense, he wished there was someone that he could buy them for.

"'Yeah, Ned, that sounds great and then let's go get coffee so I don't keep zoning out'."

"Huh?"

"You need cheap coffee and soon," Ned dragged him away with a huge bag of kettle corn under one arm. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Come on, lay off, it's been a busy week and that history essay on World War II took like three nights. _Three whole nights._ "

Ned snorted. "I know because you texted me at one a.m. every night for _three whole nights._ "

"Sorry."

"No big deal. We'll play Mario Kart later and I can beat you. Now coffee."

The coffee was so strong that Peter felt the hair grow on his chest and he had barely put any sugar in it. The further down the caffeine black hole he went, the less he craved the taste and the more that he wanted it in him as quickly as possible. That was probably a bad sign. They wandered around, looking at stuff that they didn't need or couldn't afford. Each place that they tried to settle down, they were either hurried along or pushed aside.

MJ was nowhere. Peter's stomach still buzzed. He wasn't sure if it was the feelings or the coffee on very little food.

Ned and Peter ended up awkwardly plastered against some trees.

Peter texted the group chat again, asking for an ETA as tourists knocked into them. The morning started to drag and everyone was starting to fill out the rest of the market.

"The only people that are comfortable in this place are those squirrels." Ned grumbled into his paper cup.

Peter looked up. The low hanging branches of the trees were busy with the animals. The tree was thick and old. He moved his foot back as a guy almost stepped on it.

"Let's take their lead."

Ned's eyes went wide. "Are you kidding? I have no desire to climb trees."

"Come on. I'll help you. It'll be fun." Peter leaned against the trunk looking up. There were a few branches that were low enough that they could get to them easily.

"Peter, no, this isn't going to be any fun. I can't climb two flights of stairs without having to take a break."

"I'll lift you up."

"You can't do that."

A smile that really shouldn't have been there crossed Peter's face as he leaned in and whispered, "but I'm Spider-Man."

Ned paused and then he caught on and grinned. "Okay. Right. That makes sense. You sure you want to?"

"Did you see that bus I had to stop last week?" He whispered and then set both their coffees down before he weaved his hands together and put them low. "I'm going to give you a big boost so be ready."

"Oh man, I get to climb a tree. I haven't done this since I was three." Ned shifted his weight back and forth. Peter felt himself scan the crowds behind him. They all seemed absorbed in their shopping and even then, if they looked, he wasn't going to be doing something that was completely unreasonable.

"Okay. Go," Peter said and Ned ran at him. The shoe came into his hand and he lifted quickly. His friend shouted as he went airborne as expected and landed on his stomach against the branch. Ned tried to wrap his hands around but something was going wrong. He was slipping off. While the fall wouldn't kill him, it wouldn't be pleasant.

Peter didn't think. He jumped up, clinging to the tree, and he put his hand on Ned's butt to keep him from falling completely.

"Sorry man." Peter shoved him up the rest of the way.

"We're good," He huffed. Being stable enough, Ned turned and sat himself on the branch. Peter let go, letting himself stay below just in case. Ned's face was gaining color from the slip and he dared one hand from the bark to push back his hair. "Wow, this is great. You can see the whole square from up here."

Ned's smile returned. His eyes moved quickly, taking in the whole sight. Clearly he was delighted. Well worth the effort. Now he had to get the coffee, climb up himself and get comfortable.

"How are you doing that?" A little voice said behind him.

Peter twisted to see a six year old boy staring up at him. Peter wasn't doing anything strange. He was climbing the tree. Then he noticed his foot was stuck to the trunk without any apparent hold. His left hand was doing the same. Oops. A normal human being couldn't do that.

"He's a gymnast," Ned shouted down.

Peter dropped. "And special shoes."

The kid blinked. "Special shoes?"

"Yeah. They're for gymnasts."

"Oh."

"Yup." Peter tried to seem causal as he leaned down and grasped their drinks. Ned was trying to play this off causally and so would he.

"Where did you get them? Why do they look like normal shoes?"

Peter bit his lip as he lifted the coffees and Ned leaned down as far as he could to take them.

"Come on, Conner." Someone shouted and the kid waved and disappeared.

"Geez," Peter said as he jumped and joined Ned on the branch.

"That was close," Ned said as he reopened his bag of popcorn. "Is this what the view is always like for you?"

Peter sighed, being off the ground had become inherently relaxing for him. He was away from everyone and he usually was way more proficient in getting through the air than anyone else. The view was interesting. They weren't that far off the ground, maybe only ten or fifteen feet but it did give a slightly different view.

It was the views thirty or forty stories up that really made his heart sing.

"Yeah," Peter said, "this is pretty close."

"Wow." He ate some popcorn. "I'm glad that I'm not you."

"Hey!"

"No, don't get me wrong, this is great and all but I wouldn't want to be at a height like this all the time." He sat now with both his hands in his lap. Peter felt the breeze against his back. He was sure that he'd get a hint that Ned might fall but he couldn't be too careful.

"Want an apple?" Peter dug in his backpack.

"Yeah. Man, speaking of jobs, I have a pretty cool one."

Now Peter looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I'm your guy-in-the-chair. I don't want the bruises but I get to be part of something pretty big."

Peter fished out the fruit and the suit winked up at him.

"Yeah. I guess we are."

He handed over an apple and they alternated their crunching between popcorn and fruit. The crowds kept moving below them calmly. Peter tried to spot May but she was probably long gone. It was partially because of them, two high schoolers, that everything worked.

"Thanks, Ned."

"Huh? Oh. No problem."

"You know, you can be honest with me," MJ's voice drifted up to them. She stood underneath the tree, squinting up at them. "You don't have to keep your true relationship a secret any longer."

Peter felt his face go red. "No, no, no…"

"It's not like that."

She smirked. "Just kidding dorks. I'm late 'cause the subway got backed up. Let's not be guerrillas and go do some stuff. Toss me the popcorn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Ned sitting in a tree. K-I-
> 
> AHEM. Excuse my middle grade late night brain at times. While this story is solidly MJ/Peter, I do love building the other relationships that Peter has. It's a lot of fun. Thank you for all the love on the last chapter. It really made my week. 
> 
> What do you think?
> 
> Thanks for reading as always.
> 
> -Quin


	6. The Butterfly Effect

_Prompt: Would you believe that a butterfly could change your life?_

Ned and Peter stood in front of the door. Neither one of them knocked on it. It was a pretty nice door. It was metal and there weren't scuffs or chips in the paint. They would have noticed any of those by now. Somebody had put a wreath on it. The plastic spring flowers were odd in the summer heat that was drifting through the hallway.

Ned scratched his head and Peter spotted the plastic box in his other hand.

"Oh you brought something."

Peter should have brought something. He didn't think of that. He should have thought of that. There were cookies in that plastic container. Ned must have had them in his locker.

They were both fresh from school. It had been a strange day with MJ's chairs and spots empty. Peter noted that classes were significantly quieter and the teachers seemed strangely relaxed without her asking the hard questions. It was…boring.

"So…are you going to do it?" Ned asked.

"I thought that you were going to do it?"

"I brought cookies so you should knock on the door."

"That's so not something that you can pull."

"Come on. It's MJ's door. Just knock."

"If it's not a big deal, then you knock," Peter said.

"My hands are full."

"One hand is full. The other is unused."

"You have two very empty hands."

"Just do it," Ned said.

"You 'just do it'."

"I don't know how. You dodge bullets. This isn't that hard."

"How can you tell that it's too hard if you have forgotten?"

"Innate sense."

"We should just go home."

"We can't do that, Peter. She asked us to come over."

"I know."

Peter stared at the door. He willed it to open but knew that it wasn't possible. MJ had texted the Stragglers saying that she needed human interaction, asked them to come over after "enforced child brainwashing" and texted her address. Neither one of them had been here before. She never explained why not.

That was something about MJ that Peter couldn't wrap his head around.

Somehow if she didn't want anybody to know something, they didn't find out.

The apartment complex was run of the mill for Queens. She didn't have anything to be ashamed of.

"I'll knock," Peter said. It couldn't be that hard. As his knuckles came up, he tried to think if there should be two knocks or three. Should he try to make a rhythm out of it? Maybe he shouldn't knock too loudly if MJ was asleep or something.

What he ended up doing was a knock and a half and it sounded like a cat scratching.

"What was that?" Ned squinted at the door.

"I don't know."

The door opened to MJ's little sister, Gayle.

"It took you long enough to knock." Even being nine, her smile at them was worn through. "Come on in."

"You were listening?" Peter asked as they walked into a kitchen. It was neat and orderly besides the pot of soup on the stove and a couple abandoned cups of orange juice. Peter couldn't help but stare at the family photos on the fridge. MJ kept quiet about anything family. The photos all had a mom and dad with a frowning MJ and a grinning Gayle. He almost wanted to take a picture of it because it was so rare.

"Parents work late. MJ is in the living room," Gayle said.

"Did you skip school?"

"Just for yesterday and today." She looked over her shoulder at the open door. "Nothing exciting happened. Leo has yet to kiss James and Mr. Bard hasn't busted a blood vessel."

"I bought her cookies." Ned held the box out to show.

Gayle took it before he could stop her. "Great. I'll eat them."

"What do you mean?"

"The dentist said that she's on a liquid diet for forever." She took a cookie out and chewed on it. "Man, I didn't know it was this much pain to remove teeth. Hey. These are good."

"MJ is in there," she continued, "Fair warning. She's chugging pain meds so she's really doped up and acting strange, almost like a human being. I'll be over here so give a shout if she looks like she's going to puke again."

"Go that way," She pointed to the open door, tucked the plastic box under her arm and shoved the rest of the cookie in her mouth. Shrugging, she walked past them and through a door that Peter hadn't seen before.

Neither one of them moved. Peter felt like he was somewhere that he wasn't supposed to be. One wrong step and he was going to be at gunpoint or the roof was going to collapse. They were in MJ's house and she wasn't supervising them. Ned's eyes searched the kitchen.

Peter's question died in his throat. No, there wasn't any point of asking. He took a step and waited. Nothing. Of course there was no alarm but this was a girl's house and MJ's parents probably didn't know that they were here. Gayle's door stayed closed. Prerecorded laughter came from the living room.

They inched over to see what was happening.

The view overlooked a normal looking living room. Two couches sat against the walls facing the TV. It wasn't big but there was a pile of thick books in the corner and somebody had put a few flowers on the coffee table in a vase. The top of the table was covered with the remains of several bowls of soup, water, tea, medicine bottles and bloody tissues.

"…MJ?" Peter said to a blanket pile in the epicenter of all the mess. He knocked, thankfully normally, on the door frame, "We're here."

A head emerged from the Star Wars blanket and MJ stared with absolute confusion.

Shock and hurt came across Peter. He didn't know that a face could grow horizontally _that_ way. Her cheeks looked like there were balloons in them.

She struggled to sit a little straighter but got tangled in the blankets. "What are you doing here?"

"You texted us?" Ned volunteered.

"No, I didn't." MJ slurred around the gauze in her mouth.

"Ummm…" Peter scrambled for his phone. Maybe they had both imagined it. "I thought…"

No. The texts were still there from the morning. MJ blinked slowly as she pulled her wilder than usual hair back into a ponytail.

"I didn't text you. I didn't want anybody to see me so…gross…" She cut off into a wince.

"Here. You invited us." Peter showed the phone with the texts.

She squinted. "Peter Parker, I don't know how you expect me to read a phone screen from across the room."

"Right. Sorry." He picked his way over not wanting to get close if she didn't want company. A couple of notebooks were on the table along with their history textbook. Neither looked like they had been touched by the covering in dishes. Peter glanced over his shoulder to see Ned tagging behind him.

MJ reached and took his phone. She scrolled up and down. Peter tucked his hands in his pockets. It wasn't ideal for anybody else to have his phone, in case something superhero worthy came through. That thought should have come to him about two minutes earlier. The TV laughed again. Peter recognized Friends although he had never had the time to watch it himself.

MJ continued to stare.

"You're watching _Friends_?" Ned asked what Peter didn't have the bravery to say.

She glanced up. "It's for societal criticism of the early 2000s…or something like that. Isn't his shirt giant?"

"Yeah…do you remember inviting us over now?" Peter reached for his phone.

"Oh no. I wasn't thinking about that." She readdressed the screen. She groaned, flopped back onto the couch, allowed the phone to slip onto the blanket and pressed her hand to her forehead. "Gayle. When did you take my phone?"

"Gayle did this?" Peter grabbed his phone. "She didn't seem like she was 'in' on anything. She went into her bedroom off the kitchen."

MJ's eyes opened and she looked past them. "There is no bedroom off the kitchen. Only a pantry. Are you happy now, Gayle?"

"You looked like you might need company," the voice said behind them with amusement. The sister leaned against the frame with her arms smugly crossed. "Plus this was too funny."

"I hate you."

"I love you too, big sis." She pushed off the wood and wandered past them and to a door that was decorated in posters of dancers. "Thanks for the joke and the cookies."

Then she was gone.

Peter felt worse. MJ was drained as she sank back in the blanket. Her arms and hands disappeared beneath the covers. This MJ was less spiky and hard but Peter didn't welcome that change. MJ stared at the closed door, muttering something vaguely hostile.

"We should probably go." Ned watched the TV as Rachel and Ross went at it for the fortieth time.

"No." MJ's attention jerked to them. "Stay. Watch bad TV with me." Peter twisted. MJ wanted them to be around. She was always so standoffish about them. She left sometimes without more than a causal goodbye. She seemed to tolerate them only. Now she wanted their company.

Now she leaned in her nest by just few degrees, her eyes on them.

Then she caught herself.

"Or don't. Whatever. It doesn't matter." She pulled on the blanket and took a drink of water. Her knees came up. "I'm fine here by myself. I've got everything that I need. I should switch this off. Documentaries are better."

Peter moved to sit on her couch, taking his time. "I've never watched Friends. It looks like it's funny."

"Anything to stop me from studying, I'll take it." Ned chimed in and followed to the other couch.

MJ worked the edge of the blanket as the laugh track kicked in again. "Fine, losers. Waste your time."

"Great." Peter sat and his weight made the pillows jostle her. She winced.

"Do you need anything?" He asked.

"Nope."

"Okay."

Ned put a pillow out from behind him on the floor. "So where are we in the plot?"

MJ sat straighter. "Well, Rachel realized that she likes Ross but Ross just came back from a trip and Joey is…"

Peter leaned back and watched her explain out of the corner of his eye. This was the right decision. The plot went over his head but he didn't care too much. After she finished talking about the various situations, she eased back into silence. The TV kept going, rolling to the next episode without a question. The sun cut through the blinds. Peter unwound on that couch. The Stragglers were together and were supporting one of their own. That's what their job was about.

The blonde character started singing about cats and MJ chuckled.

He smiled at that but his attention drifted. There was only one picture on the walls and it looked like a canvas print of a copyright free landscape. A few trophies sat on the bookshelf dull with dust. No family photos in here. May kept photos of his parents around. It helped sometimes. It was only those printed faces that he remembered now.

One of the notebooks on the table had silver text writing across the front: _Would you believe that a butterfly could change your life?_ MJ brought it to school a few times and it seemed to be a diary although she rather liked to hit them over the head with it instead. The phrase had been the topic of conversation a week ago when they had been bored at lunch. MJ didn't believe in the butterfly effect but had opinions about it.

Peter didn't know how he felt about the idea. It had been the bite of one spider that had changed his entire life. It had been one airplane crash that had sent an earthquake through everything after it. The butterfly painted behind the words on the notebook meant more to him than to most.

MJ's eyes drooped. Her chin dipped into her chest. She was relaxed and drifted into something peaceful. What would that look like when she was awake? What would she look like then?

The couch wasn't big. He sat a foot away from her. Slowly, he watched Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker drift from her chin and rumple down her stomach. Bruises were on either side of her cheeks. MJ hadn't mentioned that the wisdom teeth removal had complications but he was beginning to wonder.

Ned pointed to the blanket and then her chest.

 _Move it back,_ he mouthed, _cold._

Peter nodded and reached over. He almost fell as his balance and the stability of the couch deceived him. Grabbing onto the back, he hovered. If he hadn't grabbed it, he would have crashed onto MJ and woken her up. His heart moved into a familiar place in his throat. He shifted his legs until he sat right next to her.

A couple pieces of hair danced in front of her face.

Was that cute?

Could MJ be cute?

Should MJ be cute?

He was being a creep staring at her like this.

Practically, Peter picked up the blanket's edge and brought it back up to her chin. Her forehead creased but disappeared.

He should do something else before he started staring again. Or Ned caught him. Or worse, MJ woke up and found him looking at her. That would be worse, much worse.

Netflix continued onward. He had no idea what was going on. It seemed to be different variations of the same problems. It was probably why MJ watched it.

 _We should go,_ Peter mouthed to Ned.

Ned nodded and got up quietly. Peter took one look at MJ and then pressed his hands into the cushions to get up. There was noise and then a very warm, very Star Wars bundle fell. Peter barely braced before MJ slumped entirely against him, all soft and bony at once. He froze. A round something pressed into his shoulder.

Oh god.

He looked.

Oh no.

That was 100% her head.

She sighed and adjusted, somehow getting closer than she was before.

Oh no.

He was probably sweaty and if he wasn't then he was going to be in about five minutes.

_Oh no._

She was going to wake up to the terrible smell of body odor.

He kept his head still and moved his eyes to look at Ned. His best friend squatted on the carpet, silently laughing into his hands. If he spoke now, it would wake her up. The way that it was now, it wouldn't be ideal for her to wake up. She would crucify him.

He moved an inch and she slumped further down against him. The couch consumed them. It was harder to move now.

What was he going to do?

Ned sat against the leg of his couch and shook his head silently.

Peter needed help. This was too much. He was confused by all the emotions that were in his mind that he was lightheaded. All he could pick out was horror, excitement, and literally wanting to be anywhere else. He swallowed.

Then Ned got up.

"Help," Peter whispered.

The look of glee told him before Ned's word that he was going to get none of that.

"Dude, you're stuck and I have to go. I've got stuff to do."

Peter twitched forward but stopped. "You can't leave me-"

"Sorry," Ned said.

"Ned-"

Peter panicked as he looked down. She was still asleep even though Ned talked at a normal volume. She was out. He started to push against her, to shift her back and instead a sleepy hand reached out and draped itself across his lap. Inexcusable noises of stress came out his mouth without any permission.

"I'm really sorry," Ned said as the grin grew, "It looks like you are stuck there."

He took a few steps back towards the kitchen.

" _Ned. Guy in the chair. Help._ "

Ned stopped in the doorway. "You don't need any help."

Peter looked around frantically, trying to dissuade him but there was nothing in his head besides distress and MJ. The drinks, the tissues, the TV still loyally playing Friends, none of this was going to change his mind.

"At least give me the remote so I can put on something else."

Ned wasn't there. He heard the front door close and listened as the footsteps faded down the hall. Then it was just them.

That thought logged in his brain.

Oh no. _It was just them._ MJ was turned sideways now. Her breath was warming his pinned arm and her shoulder was almost draped over him. Peter couldn't get his heart to calm down. It was humiliatingly loud in his ears. He tried to listen for the cars outside, for any sign of Gayle in the next room over but he couldn't hear any of it.

All that was left was the pounding and the immense feeling of dread that she was going to wake up. He might die when that happened.

The room remained still. He tried to focus on anything. The show wasn't his thing but he watched two guys lose a baby on a bus. It was arbitrarily amusing but the distraction wasn't strong enough. He didn't know what to do with his hands. His left one, he dug under his leg so it wasn't even near MJ. The right one was the problem. He leaned on it to keep upwards but the way that MJ was laying made her left hand dangerously close to his.

He tried not to think about it too hard.

Actually, he tried not to think at all.

The TV rolled through episodes and he started to sink into the couch himself. The problem with sitting was that he was stopping and he could not stop. His arms started to feel achy from all the swinging. A part of his hip stung from where a light pole had been ungraciously thrown at him and hit. Two episodes drifted by as he started to feel himself power down. This is what happened when the caffeine ran out.

The sun continued to streak in at sharper angles as he drowsed.

At some point, he had slipped as his arm gave out and he was horizontal against a few pillows. MJ rolled completely onto his chest.

This should be awkward.

In the haze of half sleep, it wasn't. It actually felt secure and strangely nice.

Netflix wasn't playing anymore.

It shocked him. What time was it? He struggled to pull his phone free.

Two hours. He had been on this couch two hours and should be thoroughly on his patrol by now. Stress jogged him the rest of the way awake. He was failing. Happy was probably wondering why Karen wasn't online yet. Everything ached as he tried to sit up. Things wobbled and MJ twitched. He eased back down.

This was entirely a problem.

Sometimes this happened. His arms and legs stopped. He knew he pushed it but there were things to do and he didn't have time to weigh the consequences. When a car with a kid in it was going over the edge of a bridge, he didn't think about how sore his shoulders were going to be in the morning.

He let his head roll back as he stared at the popcorn ceiling. He wasn't sweaty. Surprising. The nap had smoothed out the anxiety. Thoughts drifted in that there was in fact a _girl_ sleeping on _him_ but he fought against them. He didn't need that. He needed to figure out how to get it together and extract himself from under MJ. He got his other hand free and reached under to push himself up.

Then she sighed.

It was small and he might have missed it had it not been for the spider in him. He craned his head to look down. She was relaxed, even with the swollen cheeks and pinkness. Her face was slack but still showed something of the strength that he knew was there. His hand came over her and pushed hair back behind her ear. She was pretty, nothing could take away from that and he liked her.

He blinked.

He always liked her like a friend but this was different. He had just thought that he _liked_ her, as in _liked_ her.

As in he wanted to be around her, to hear more sharp jokes, to see her smile, to hug her, to go to prom, to take her to see the stars that appear only when you are on the top of a skyscraper. He wanted her to look at him and know that she felt the same way.

It was like he had stepped into a cold shower. Panic drifted into him. He couldn't like anyone. He was Spider-Man. Anyone that he cared about was at risk. She was already on the line but as a _girlfriend?_ Even if it was possible, even if she wanted it, she would have no idea the danger. It was like signing a blank check

He worried about May all the time as he ran through the scenario of his identity getting revealed over and over.

Swallowing was hard as he looked away from her. The room was hazy in the evening light.

He dropped his hand by his side. He should slip out now. He should put on the suit in his backpack and go find something to hit.

Everything made sense now. All the nervousness, it _was_ about MJ but it was also about him.

His fingers dug into his palm. He couldn't do this. The TV was warning that it was going to shut down soon. His face tickled as he tried to shove everything down. Deny it all. MJ didn't weigh as much as the heaviness he felt on his chest.

Peter Parker made sacrifices for the greater good.

He did it every day.

Today was no different.

Tomorrow would be a repeat of today.

The week after, the month after, the year after, until graduation, it would be the same thing. How many things had he given up before? This was no different.

Maybe it would die.

He used to crave regular life, eight hours of sleep and normalcy.

Those things had withered in him until he couldn't feel them anymore. Maybe it could happen again.

He couldn't risk her.

"What are you doing?"

She was awake and looking at him. How had he missed the color of those eyes? Why was he feeling like he was falling?

"Honestly, I've got no idea." There was a choke in his throat. She wasn't upset at him. A little confused but her body remained lax and over his chest.

She blinked. "Oh."

He needed to get out of here.

"What am I doing?" She asked simply like it was naturally the next question. Her chin rested on a balled up fist. "Sorry. My head is super heavy."

Peter fought himself as words built up in him. Things that just needed to go away.

"Honestly, I've got no idea." All he trusted himself to do was repeat his words.

A lazy smile came across her face. "Oh. Cool."

He felt sick. His stomach kept twisting into knots. She had to be able to see him, to see what was happening.

She lost focus and then looked at the TV.

"What are you watching?"

"Friends."

The screen was black. He didn't try to correct himself.

"Okay. We can do that." She reached over him, grasped the remote and the TV came back.

His head pounded and he was getting cold sweats. This was what normal couples did. She didn't leave him. She didn't acknowledge it. They were just being.

"Are you okay with this?" The question came out of him, breaking through all the rest of the thoughts. He couldn't take it back as she snapped to look at him. The quick motion must have hurt because she winced.

"Yeah."

Peter felt himself crack.

She stared right into his eyes. "Are you?"

He looked away, trying to hide. On the table was her notebook. The silver lettering was dull.

_Would you believe that a butterfly could change your life?_

"Peter?" She was raising now. Her hands were on the couch now. The weight shifted off of him. He felt himself look back at her. Now the confusion was real. Her eyebrows knotted together and something that he didn't want to think about was crossing her face. Her hair was loose from the tie. It rolled down her shoulder. He wanted to push it back.

" _Peter_ _…?_ "

"I was just afraid to wake you up but I've got to go now." He pushed up. His legs swung to the floor. The ground was solid under his shoes.

"I thought-"

The backpack was an easy next step. Habit dictated how to put it on. He didn't look back as he waved over his shoulder.

"See you at school soon. Feel better."

"Wait-"

He was in the kitchen. The front door closed behind him. He couldn't breath. He took the stairs three at a time. The city was loud as he walked onto the street. His phone buzzed. It wasn't the group chat. It was just MJ. He didn't look at it.

Instead he took a step and then another.

He kept doing that.

It was the only thing he could do to keep the tears from coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? A new post after two days? It's my personal challenge to try to update this three times this week.
> 
> Warning. This "set of short stories" is slowly turning more and more into a full on narrative. Whoops.
> 
> So. This chapter. This was always was supposed to be the story where MJ and Peter discovered they have feelings for each other. This ending was not planned and it broke my heart when I realized that it was the only way I could go. 
> 
> What do you think? Did you have feelings too?
> 
> Thank you for all the kind comments and reviews lately. I've been in mentally not a great place but I will get back to you all soon.
> 
> Thanks.
> 
> -Quin


	7. Barricades and Baracade

_Prompt: I never like a sore loser._

Peter watched MJ pack her backpack with one minute left in the meeting.

He wasn't trying to stare but she was more interesting than his world history: 1880-1890 cheat sheet. The Decathlon session had been solo studying. Nobody minded the quiet time. Midterms were plowing and wrecking through everyone's motivation. The room smelled of energy drinks and soda.

MJ slipped her notebooks away.

He shifted his chin on his arm and glanced up at Ned. He wasn't disappointed. Ned was trying to catch his eye. He focused on her and then back at him, an eyebrow raised. Everyone else bowed down over their papers. Her phone went into her back pocket. She looked and acted mostly normal for being her first day back at school. She frowned often and drilled the French teacher on the origins of _menage a trois_ and didn't let up until he was Frenchly sputtering.

Peter didn't get to talk to her before class. He was late because somebody decided to try to rob an armored car. That bad guy found out the hard way not to do that.

Lunch had been a bust. MJ had disappeared into the nurse's office for most of the hour.

Now they were here and MJ was about to sneak out on the Stragglers meeting. Ned had even brought soda and a bottle of water just in case. He sighed.

She was probably trying to avoid him.

He was probably, or maybe he should be trying, to avoid her? Make it easier? After Peter had almost told MJ that he liked her, they hadn't talked much. As much as he tried to push it away, sadness had wormed into him.

The clock rolled over to the next hour. A phone alarm went off. Everybody looked up. MJ shrugged on her backpack.

"Hey," Ned said.

She glanced back, gave a half smile and then slipped out with the crowd.

"What is happening?" Ned asked him.

"I don't know. I mean I could guess but I know I would be wrong. I'm pretty much always wrong with girls." Peter didn't lift his head from his arms. The door squeaked as he watched it open and close. Since the Stragglers session wasn't going to happen, he was going to go home and take a nap.

"Dude, what _happened_ after I left?" Ned grabbed Peter's stuff. "You know what? I don't matter 'cause the Stragglers aren't breaking up and you don't get to sulk like this for no reason unless you've been hit by something big lately."

"Burning building?" Peter allowed his friend to drag him out of his chair.

"Not a forty ton truck so it doesn't count. Come on, we're catching up with her."

Peter felt a choke come out of his throat as they hurried out of room. There was not much difference in the impact of a collapsing building and truck when it hits you. It hurts. It just hurts in different places. There was also a threat of fire in both cases.

They pushed past students as they caught MJ's hair making it for the door. He didn't dig in his heels as they started to catch up. He wanted to but Ned's grip was firm.

He hadn't felt good the day after the MJ event. He'd stayed home and laid in his bed, sleeping off and on. There was a poster in the room from Uncle Ben. It had the planets on it and written in block letters under it was: _It is all a matter of perspective._

He had spent a lot of time thinking about that.

"MJ! Where are you going?" Ned shouted and she paused on the stairs out on the street. Her arms were carefully loose at her side.

"Oh hey losers." Even her voice was a practiced neutral.

Peter tried to look her in the eyes but it didn't work. Instead, he stared at the illustration on her shirt. The drawing was of a bloody hand and a quote: _Let me wipe it first, it smells of morality._ He knew that quote from somewhere.

"I thought we were going to hang out after the decathlon? Uno? Soda? The usual?" Ned asked.

He stared at the graphic, trying to place that quote until he realized he was gawking directly at her chest. That might have been a hundred times worse than eye contact. He dropped his eyes to her shoes. The converse had hundreds of sharpe frowny faces on the white toes. The awkwardness crawled up him. He had no idea what she thought of him.

After the few confused texts right after, she had resumed all usual manner of memes and gifs without a hitch.

It could be that she didn't remember any of it.

Peter had a hard time believing that.

"Oh yeah. Well. I have somewhere else to be today after school."

That was a new thing. MJ didn't do other activities that didn't involve them or sitting at home reading massive books for fun. Peter admired that about her. It was cute.

He winced. He had to stop that kind of thinking.

"What is with you Peter? Did a taxi beat you up again or something?" MJ leaned down to catch his eye.

"…no?" He offered back and she shrugged confused.

"Alright. Look. You two look like helicopter moms today. You can tag along." She pulled her backpack up. "But know, I never like a sore loser."

Then she was heading down the street, leaving the two of them in the dust. Peter caught something under her breath about it only being major surgery and nothing to worry about. That made his stomach turn a little. Maybe she had forgotten how much she was in pain last week.

"Maybe she's still high on something," Ned said as they jogged to follow her.

"I can hear you," she shouted, "I am well within the recommended dosages today, thank you very much."

"Where are we going?"

"To a bar."

They hurried after her.

MJ refused to answer any more questions after that. The only responses she gave was either silence and a "you'll see." The subway ride was full of high schoolers going home or going to blow off steam. Peter felt his phone buzz in his pocket but Spider-Man had to wait. The further they got from the school, the more worried he became that MJ was going to do something that she would regret later.

Being around her was still strange. Every time she looked at him, he was ready for her to lash out at him for everything. She did glare but it was in the careless way that she glared at everyone. MJ leaned against a pole scrolling through her phone, her whole body stiff.

They couldn't get in a bar.

He wasn't even sure why they headed towards midtown. She didn't lie to them. Sure, it was usually covered in sarcasm but she never told them one thing and did another.

So that meant that they were going to a bar.

The audio track crackled as it announced their arrival at 23rd Street.

"It's our stop." MJ pushed off the pole and wandered out with the crowd.

Peter wanted to play Uno right about now.

As they climbed out to the street, the smell of hot garbage and people were everywhere. Tourists crowded around, pointing at the buildings that to him looked all the same. They avoided the groups and headed deeper into the city. MJ kept a striking pace and paused only for a moment to glance down at the map on her phone.

He didn't catch the full name on the screen but it did include the word "bar".

Tuesday afternoon didn't seem like the best time to get in trouble with Aunt May. She would hardly take the excuse that it was someone else's fault. That only worked for Spider-Man and it had about a 30% of success. The rates got higher if the lateness also had to do with cats, babies or food trucks in jeopardy.

"You know, people go through much worse than having their wisdom teeth removed?" MJ asked as she allowed the boys to catch up with her. "I'm not going to fall over and die." She snorted. "That would be funny though."

"I don't think so," Peter said.

"Oh please. We all live in a black hole, waiting to get sucked into the nothingness."

"Can we chill at home or something instead of this?" Ned asked.

She gave Ned the eye. "You know better than _that_ , Ned Leeds."

They shut up as they turned around a corner. A poster of Spider-Man plastered in a shop window caught Peter's attention. If MJ's chilliness was for the reason that he thought, it was only because of him. The mask glared back at him. It had to be worth it. Spider-Man saved lives. His decision might have just saved MJ even.

" _You have arrived at your destination,_ " MJ's phone announced as she turned without a comment into the front of a building.

The greasy black out windows showed only their reflection and wooden panels lined the lower half of the building. Peter could hear the cheesy music from inside although he doubted that anybody else could. A couple guys smoked outside but barely gave MJ a look as she slipped past them. Peter didn't know much about a lot about all this stuff but this was a bar.

 _Baracade_ was in neon through the windows.

He stayed out staring until he was alone on the street. Well, as alone in NYC as a person could be. He looked around, didn't see anybody that might stop him and opened the door. The guys smoking gave him a halfway look as they chatted about a wrestling match.

The lights were completely off and Peter paused to adjust. He felt the smile come across his face. Okay. This might be better than Uno. The walls of the small shoebox bar were covered with old school arcade machines. The room was lit by their screens and the machines chirped with the people that were already playing them.

A bar was in the back behind a partition. A partition that he knew he wasn't supposed to go past.

"Now you see loser?" MJ called, already pressing hard against buttons on a machine. "This is cool."

The arcade machine was clicking and lights flashed as she navigated a ship past aliens. A 8-bit soundtrack encroached on everyone's eardrums.

"You _might_ be right." Peter put his hands in his pocket. He inched closer to see the score.

She stood up, the machine booming with explosions, with fire in her eyes. "You _know_ I'm right, Peter Parker."

They looked at each other for the first time. It must have been a mistake because they both reacted with a flinch. Peter felt about three inches tall and the fire in MJ's eyes disappeared. Her grin fell away and Peter's stomach shriveled. MJ's focus went past him and then back to the game as her spaceship died on screen. He should go or something.

She slapped the side of the machine and the illusion clicked back into place.

"Ned is in the back getting quarters." She restarted the machine. "The dummy thinks he can beat my high score at Space Invaders. He's wrong so get some quarters so I can beat him some more."

"Yeah. Sure." It was something to do instead of standing there next to her.

The machines filled his ears as he headed off in the direction that she had pointed. This whole thing was weird and he didn't have time for this weird.

Ned ran into him. His pockets dragged his pants down and his hands were full of coins.

"I didn't realize that a twenty would be so many quarters." He grinned. "This place is so cool. We get to play old school Space Invaders. Haven't you always wanted to play it? It's a icon. Like, hall of fame iconic."

That made Peter smile again. "I'm getting you more quarters."

" _Awesome._ I promise to give you a turn. Later. Promise."

They passed more time than Peter cared to admit, crowded around that arcade machine. The battle was between MJ and Ned. Peter didn't have video game reflexes, he traded them for dodging real life bullets. Eventually, he got a chair to pull over. Seated on the top of the chair's back, he could see everything going on. Nobody at the bar cared much about the groups of high schoolers that had staked claim to various machines in the pre-party goers hours.

The machine thrummed as the waves and waves of enemies got closer. The plastic and wiring started to smell with the continual use. Everything that happened the last couple of days faded away as all that mattered was who could get the highest score. MJ had more experience and knew how to time her shots perfectly to destroy the enemy. She also took it down to the wire every time, leaving Peter and Ned to yell as she finished off the last alien with less than a second to spare.

Ned kept trying different ideas and sometimes they worked well and other times they went up in flames. MJ took every opportunity she could to tease him. That didn't stop him. It only made him insist on another game which was her whole purpose Peter suspected.

In the end, Ned did lose and lose badly.

It was getting late. The city was as dark as the inside. People here more for the drinks than the games started filtering in. He had already made his excuses to May that he wasn't going to make it home before Spider-Man went for his patrol. His fingers made imprints in the metal chair as he watched the final rounds. Time clawed into him. There were things he was missing now. He gritted his teeth. Usually he was completely willing to lose track of time with his friends.

So it was a relief when he dug in his pockets and was out of quarters to give Ned.

MJ was quiet in her victory. The pleased smile was good enough on her face to tell everyone that she had been the winner.

The Stragglers piled outside the bar. The air felt cold. Peter hadn't realized that he had been sweating as they stared at the darkened city. The only time that Peter saw the city this far into the evening was as Spider-Man. He automatically strained to hear Karen chatter in his ear about the nearby crimes.

"Well…" Ned said, "it was a good game."

"You can try to beat me again any time. You know where to find me." MJ's smile hadn't changed.

"Good to have you back," he laughed and then turned away. "See you two tomorrow."

Peter's plan had been to leave with Ned but his friend disappeared off in the opposite direction than he had predicted. He held his breath as he started to back away the other direction. It didn't matter which part of town he was heading towards. MJ turned and he could see the surprise on her face that he wasn't where he had been a moment before.

"Peter?" She found him and he waved good bye.

"Hey loser!" She shouted and shoes clapped behind him. "I'm not done with you."

He forced himself to stop. Now the smile was gone on her face as she caught up to him. She looked at him with almost complete seriousness. It chilled him to the spot.

This was like being faced with a gun inches away from your face.

He usually had to get creative in such situations.

But this was not a gun.

This was a girl.

And maybe a hundred times worse.

She frowned at him.

"…yeah?" He had to fill the silence.

"Look. We're friends."

His eyebrows rose. "We are?"

"I thought we were friends? You know, like that tarantula and frog in South America from biology?"

Confusion flooded him so the only sounds that came out of his mouth noises. They had been talking about friendship and _them_ but now they were talking about frogs in another country? What did he miss?

She shifted and brushed back her hair. "The tarantula allows the dotted humming frog to live in its den where it eats all the ants that are after its larva. In return, the frog gets a free bodyguard."

Peter's mouth was open. "What does a frog have to do with all this…?"

"A symbiotic relationship." MJ's voice raised. "We're all trying to get through this dumb high school thing. Together. We're friends. Like the frog and the spider."

"Oh." He blinked. "Cool."

It wasn't cool but it was something. He could deal with the hurt in his throat if they could be friends. It seemed much better than this purgatory. It could be worse.

Peter's heart jumped up as he put something together.

"Wait, I'm…the spider?"

"No dummy. I am." She scoffed.

"Oh." He went back to staring at the frowny faces on her shoes.

"Don't leave me hanging here then loser. Symbiotic relationship? You'll eat the ants?"

She was offering her hand. Shit.

"You keep doing the spider stuff." He jumped to take it and then he was squeezing too much and shaking it like a protein shake. As he realized this, she was already pulling away.

"Well, see you tomorrow." Her hands disappeared back into her pockets. A smirk crossed her face. Then she was gone into the night.

"Yeah…" He said to her back.

He watched her go. Everything that he said turned on him in a wave. He pushed his hand against his face and groaned. He really was a loser. Who would ever agree to be a frog?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd we're back!
> 
> As many of you probably guessed. I went back to work and got entirely slammed. Since my other long story is finished, I now have time to pay attention to this again. I loved writing this stuff and I can't wait to get back.
> 
> We're easing into something that is slightly more narrative with the short story/chapters. Honestly, I'm letting it grow organically.
> 
> What do you think? Are you happy The Stragglers are back like me?
> 
> Thanks for reading as always.
> 
> Quin


	8. Weekends Required

_Prompt: I have never met a cheekier child._

Verdell stared at him.

Peter stared right back.

This was a mistake.

The small dog sat on one of the clean spots on his bedroom carpet and blinked at him. Peter sat on his bed and looked right back. His attention never strayed from Peter. The dog was waiting for him to make the next move and Peter had no idea what to do. All of this seemed like a fine idea last week. Now he was on dog sitting and clueless.

The scruffy brown dog belonged to Apartment 17 below and was a known escape artist. Peter had found him multiple times on the stairs. Usually he didn't get too far before getting lost. The dog would sit and wait until someone picked him up and brought him back up to the correct apartment. Peter did it on an almost daily basis.

So it was natural for Verdell's parents to ask him to pet sit for a few days.

Peter had said yes thoughtlessly.

How hard could a pet be?

Now those brown eyes, two bags of toys and a wire crate stuffed under his desk told him how wrong he was.

The dog snuffed the floor and wandered towards the suit that was piled on the ground from last night. May had promised to take care of him at night but during the weekend days, the dog was all his. The instructions in his hand crumpled.

They were simple:

_Verdell gets two scoops of food twice a day._

_If he starts barking, he needs to go out._

_He_ _'s terrified of balloons._

_He likes walks._

The only other thing was a couple phone numbers and his vet's information as needed. That made it sound easy but the pet was his. May had only been amused as she had shaken him awake at eight this morning because it was time to feed the dog. Snorting sounds made him look up.

Verdell's head was stuck in the armpit of the suit and he waddled around, dragging the blue and red fabric over his french notes from three weeks ago. The lenses flickered as Karen tried to determine if Peter Parker was in the suit or not. The tail wagged. He stumbled over his own feet and fell forward.

"Come on." Peter scooped the dog and yanked his head free. Verdell sneezed directly in his face. Peter grimaced as he tucked the dog under his arm. Little nails dug through his shirt. That was comforting. Verdell did that every time they went up the stairs together.

"You like walks. Let's do that? No escaping, right?"

The dog promised nothing.

The subway rattled around them and Verdell was happy to sit on his lap and pant in the smell of sweat and possible mold. Peter kept his hand around the dog anyways. He was pushed forward by his backpack. No matter how ridiculous and improbable, he had to keep the suit on him. If MJ knew, she'd tell him it was his safety blanket. He felt the smile flicker on his face. He'd deny it.

They were halfway to Central Park. As a temporary dog owner, it was the only place that he could think of that might be right. The park had a strange place in Peter's heart. He had face planted himself in too many trees. The first six months he learned the edges of the city that were not Spider-Man friendly. Central Park with its low hanging trees and lakes was one of them.

He had also learned that Karen was waterproof there.

Girls giggled and snapped photos from across the car. They were wearing "I HEART NYC" shirts. Verdell panted in their direction and one ear went up. That caused even more squealing and photos. Peter's cheeks went red. The attention was weird. The paws adjusted themselves on his legs as they went over a bump and outside lights flashed through the windows. He was fearless.

Peter held onto the leash even tighter. Dogs were a common sight on subways but he didn't realize that they got this much attention. The music in his hears blared out must of the noise around him. It probably wasn't the best for his ears but it was better than the constant squealing of the engine.

His phone reconnected as they came out from under the river and he pulled it out by habit. Ned might have responded to his battle request on their new MMORPG. A text caught his attention instead.

_10:02 from Happy: Get to the tower now or pick up or both -happy_

"Huh?" His heart ticked up into his ears.

Then the ten notifications buzzed in. Each was a call from Happy within a couple seconds. Verdell jumped onto the floor and onto a guy's foot as Peter dumped him, half standing.

"Hey. Take care of that." The guy shoved back against a couple others. "It might have fleas."

"Sorry," Petter shouted too loud and stared between the phone and the dog before locking the phone. Scooping the dog up, he tried to act normal as he sat back down. Cell service only lasted a few seconds before they were under the metal buildings again. No bars were showing up on his phone.

His palms sweated as he looked down at the text again. Did he miss something? Was something terrible happening and he didn't know it? He pulled up his calendar and saw nothing. That was dumb because he never put down events. Verdell tried to climb up his shoulder. He whined and the nails pinched his skin. Peter sighed.

"It's okay, buddy. Sorry for dumping you on the ground like that," he said and stroked his back. The dog gave him a look before settling against his chest. There was nothing that Peter could do but wait. He could get off at the next stop but the subway would take him close to Stark Tower in ten minutes.

He couldn't exactly _swing_ if he got off now. His heel tapped against the ground as he watched the lights flash past the window. He could try to will the train to go faster.

Verdell's nose dug into his stomach.

This was not a good situation.

He looked around. Nobody was paying attention to him. He could call May or Ned but they wouldn't get into the city in enough time. MJ was somewhere but even she was out of the picture. He needed someone to dog sit now or else he was going to be smuggling a dog into Stark Tower and then take him swinging through the streets?

Impossible. Verdell was a dog. Not a sidekick. Dogs were _breakable_ and unlike him, they didn't heal quickly.

Plus he was a dog and man's best friend.

Nobody put man's best friend flying between two skyscrapers going 60 miles an hour in a backpack.

The phone showed no bars as they pulled into a stop. People shuffled in and out. He was still half listening to music and switched it off. Too many options were in his head. He should stop trying to figure out how he would disarm a bomb before they even got to a spot where he could call Happy back.

Verdell looked up at him from his muzzle buried in his t-shirt. Somehow, he was sure that the dog knew that they were both in some sort of trouble. Peter wrapped his hands around him and looked at the map, counting and recounting the stops between him and cell service.

It was about fifteen minutes later Peter waited in the elevator to go to the executive suites. Happy growled under his breath, annoyed and trying to punch several texts through on his phone. He had already taken several phone calls but Peter couldn't get anything from them. The answers to every call had been a gruff "yes", "no" or a "I got it. He's almost there." All Peter had gotten out of the man was that he was needed immediately and something was a mess. It was a mess enough for Happy to all but drag him into the elevator.

He had ruled out unwiring a bomb. First of all, that was more of an Iron Man thing and if there was a true emergency, Peter would be in his suit by now and swinging to location. He shifted and shoved his hands in his pockets. Deep breaths. They were both going to make it through this somehow.

Happy didn't know about Verdell.

Nor did the security downstairs.

Or anybody in the building.

Hopefully, Peter wasn't going to have to give up his secret.

The camera looked down on him from a corner and he angled away from it. Nothing to see. Just Peter Parker in an elevator with a stormy Happy.

The number ticked up.

Happy took a deep breath. "Look. Tony hasn't lost it entirely yet but try not to push him over the edge, okay? We're trying to get this all sorted out."

"Okay," Peter said. He rocked from his toes to his heels.

"You'll just need to go with the flow."

All of this meant absolutely nothing to him so he shrugged. There was no point in guessing now. He would be told whenever somebody decided that he needed to know.

"I want this day to be over."

"It's Saturday. That's kinda nice, right?"

Happy scratched his head as the elevator started to settle. "As a future employee of Stark Industries, you should know that there is no such thing as weekends or time off."

Peter shifted the backpack on his back and prayed. Happy edged to the door until he could slip through the now opening doors. Peter took a moment and followed. People that he had never seen were hurrying around. He paused in his steps to look at the boxes and clothes that seemed to be fluttering around. He didn't know that there was supposed to be a party this weekend. There should have been more hurrying downstairs too.

"Peter," Happy called halfway down the hall.

"Sorry." He broke into a jog before stopping immediately at the little yelp of surprise coming from his backpack. He had hoped that Verdell had gone to sleep.

The anxiety of the dog was coming into his stomach. Dogs were not something that you are supposed to put in a bag, even little dogs. He didn't want to break Verdell.

Peter hurried.

Harri sat at his desk, typing away with a straw sticking out of his mouth. His t-shirt was happily advertising that he was on his "weekend vacay". He looked up and frowned deeply.

"What is he doing here?"

Happy moved past him without pausing and popped open the door with his badge. "He's here to help. Tony needs a youth opinion."

Harri shook his head and started typing again. "Stark pulls me off my date to finalize these details and amp social media. You know I can't keep a boyfriend because they all say I'm a 'workaholic', in _New York City_ , they are calling me a workaholic."

"Come on, Peter."

Peter started to walk past. Harri only glared at him and muttered something unrepeatable.

The office lab combo beyond was empty except for Mr. Stark. Peter was surprised. The room was in more disarray than usual. A Iron Man suit was in pieces across half the floor and on the other someone had put a rack of black suits. The man himself was sitting on his desk in black pants and a white undershirt. He pushed off immediately.

"Kid. What were you doing? Ice skating in Canada?"

Happy paused. "Are you sure about this, Tony? He probably has better things to do."

"This little thing? Come on. I made the suit, I can borrow the kid," Tony scoffed and walked quick across the room. Peter realized that he had stopped somewhere close to the door. What had he gotten himself into? The dog shifted in his bag. Nobody's eyes were on his back. He angled himself to directly face Mr. Stark, something that made him curl up his toes in his shoes.

"Tell him." Tony smiled.

Happy rolled his eyes. "We need Spider-Man to attend a movie premiere with Iron Man in an hour."

" _What?"_ Peter realized that he was laughing too late. Nobody needed to be saved. The world wasn't going to explode in seven seconds. It was going to be just another Saturday in the books. Maybe this one was going to be weird but it wasn't going to be extraordinary in ways that he would regret every time he woke up for the next week.

Tony's frown made him try to slow it down."You're only here because Pepper suddenly has a stomach flu."

Peter took a deep breath and straightened. "It's okay Mr. Stark. I think I can do that. I'll just need to text Aunt May that I'll be late for dinner."

"Good. Now everyone else thinks that Peter Parker is here to help me associate with the youth. He'll need to leave and Spider-Man will need to come through that window promptly. There is a suit to fit or maybe we'll have to go with just a tie. Where is that tailor when you need him?"

Peter felt a ting in the back of his throat but the weight on his back moved. It was time to come clean.

"Um. There is a slight problem, sir."

Tony was already halfway across the room. FRIDAY was putting together different options for him to wear on the red carpet. "I don't have time for problems."

The tone in his voice was lower and he was fixated on the designs. He flicked through three without actually looking, his eyebrows narrowing. Happy was gone, probably making the adjustments for whatever was happening to get him a ticket.

Peter skipped back. "You're right. I've gotta make a call."

"That's right." The singsong answer followed him out until the door cut him off.

He started to press his back to the door and forced himself to stop. There had to be a way through this without Tony knowing anything. There had to be. Tony was expecting him to be ready at any moment. This wasn't that kind of emergency but it was a test for the next one. Tony would remember that he had a dog on him and wasn't prepared.

"Did he ask you the question or whatever?" Harri leaned over the arm of his chair. "Why did he bring you in anyways?"

"Oh. He. Um." Peter took a step, stopped, looked back and then tried to focus. "He wanted to know something about the research that I was doing."

There was a little Spider-Man action figure on his desk. It hadn't been there last time.

Harri rolled his eyes at Peter, completely disbelieving. "On a Saturday?"

He tried to smile but it went all wrong. "I go to school?"

Harri tapped his pen against his desk. "It wasn't on the schedule. I control his schedule."

"Happy set it up." He started walking. "Anyways, gotta go now. Academics call!"

Why did he say that so cheerfully? He got to the door and the sounds of the keyboard started back up again.

"Good luck with that."

He stood in the hall watching the people hurry around. Verdell snuffed his back through the fabric. He had to figure this out and quickly. There had to be someone that could watch the dog for a couple hours, just to get through the premiere. He could even leave early if he had to. The dog was his responsibility and the big apple was not a place to just tie up a dog and hope that he was still going to be there when you got back.

He needed backup.

So he started towards the elevator.

Catherine worked over a checklist. "No."

"Come on Ms. Catherine, you take care of people all the time." Peter followed her as she opened up drawers in her small lab.

She laughed and leaned over the drawer. "'Take care' isn't the right word. I patch up the idiocy so you all can be heroes or be in the black and white photo on the front page of the New York Times. Dogs and bullet wounds are not treated the same way."

Peter thanked his luck that the Avengers' own nurse practitioner was in her office. She looked at him, practically, her eyes drawing down his face to Verdell in his arms.

"Are you sure…?" He lifted up the pup.

She closed the drawer. "He's cute but no. What would I do with a dog? Suture him?"

"I really want to go to this premiere with Mr. Stark and I can't bring a dog along."

He tried to remember how many times he had been in this lab now and why. Between getting his shots and having been shot, these walls had seen more than most. Catherine sat back down at her desk and took a drink of the coffee on her table.

"Just have Spider-Man bring the dog along. Promote adopting a dog."

Peter sat on the edge of her desk. "I can't do that. Tony doesn't know."

She frowned. "He's not allergic to dogs."

He slipped into the guest chair. "Come on. A few hours. No trouble. Why are you here anyways? You don't work weekends usually?"

She snorted into her coffee. "Peter. You know better."

"I know. No weekends. I got it." Verdell wiggled and slipped onto the floor. He snuffled and walked around on the tile.

"Who has a life anyways?" She asked. "No, I'm here for the same reason you are. Pepper is sick. She's in the guest room, resting."

"Is she okay?"

"Some fluid and time away from a drama queen and she'll be fine." She smiled. "It's cute that you're trying to balance taking care of a dog and swinging around. It's good for you."

"Do you have any other ideas?"

Verdell's tags clicked behind him as the dog explored near the door. He had just been out recently so he wasn't too worried about the dog making a mess. Catherine tightened her lips and opened up her computer.

"Let's see who is online. Maybe Gloria is in. She's the weekend cook. Better than the week cook. He's got an obsession with using raw fish."

She scanned a list and Peter waited. If Catherine wasn't going to do it, he was going to have to figure something else out. She was his only option. He was half tempted to call Ned now but he wasn't going to be in the city. He already told Peter that he was trying to get ahead in their English homework for some reason.

"I have never met a cheekier child," Tony said from behind him. "Is this why you panicked? Because of this guy?"

Peter turned in his chair to see Mr. Stark holding Verdell in the doorway. He was still halfway dressed. Verdell had his eyes on Peter as the billionaire tucked the dog under one arm.

"You're a good boy."

The dog's tail started to wag as he relaxed on the arm that was holding him.

"Congratulations on being demoted to a pooper scooper. He's cute," Mr. Stark said.

Catherine locked her screen. "Don't tease him, he's having a good time."

"He should have fun outside a lab."

"Verell isn't mine. I'm dog sitting and we were going to Central Park when Happy called. I didn't know what to do." Peter got up. "I thought that Catherine might watch him."

Tony's gave her a questioning look.

"Catherine won't do it," Catherine said, "You don't pay me enough to take care of other people's pets."

"You don't like dogs?" Tony scratched between Verdell's ears.

"I do but I'm taking care of your fiance."

"Hmm. Fine. Get dressed here Peter. Spider-Man is going to help us with our dog problem."

The premiere was fun. Iron Man came onto the red carpet first but the cheers rang in his ears when Peter swung down next to him. There were so many cameras going that he had to put the lenses on manual control or else he was going to be squinting in every photo. It was fun to wave and answer questions from reporters about what it was like to be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

He tried to never let this sort of fame go to his head. School helped him with that. Midterm exams and SAT Prep haunted the back of his mind always. It was that sort of stuff that kept him humble.

It was almost evening by the time that he got back to the Stark Tower. He climbed up to the smoker's balcony that always seemed to be open and made his way from there up to Mr. Stark's office.

Harri was sitting on the floor fast asleep, computer rolling through Netflix and Verdell curled up on his lap. Another guy he didn't recognize was crashed out next to him with another brown dog on top of him. Peter smiled from underneath the mask. Tony had been right. Harri didn't mind at all to dog sit for Spider-Man.

In fact, it looked like he might have had a good time too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not in love with this one but I don't hate it either.
> 
> Catherine finally made an appearance! I have cut her out of...four of these short stories? I was looking for a natural way to toss her in. Obviously, Catherine is my own character from a series of stories. The first one is "In Stitches" and follows Peter's introduction in the Avengers along with her own. People get shot. Tony is a drama queen. It's a good time.
> 
> I might have to change my upload day to Monday. My work schedule changed and writing during the week got more challenging.
> 
> Thank you all! Did you like this one?
> 
> Thanks for reading as always. -Quin


	9. What Binds Us

_Prompt:_ _It had been a terrible year, but at the same time, I wouldn_ _'t have changed a thing because…_

"Come on, Peter. Put your back into it," May said as she sipped her cup of coffee.

Peter grunted trying to get the bread batter to mix. It fought back and flour floated into his eyes. If anything was going to wake him up, it was going to be this. He huffed and pushed his hands harder through the tarry substance. The morning light was just starting to come through the windows.

"Why am I up again?"

May had woken him up, ruffled his hair, handed him a cup of coffee and set him to work on baking. All he could manage was to make a face. Five a.m. on a Sunday morning was not supposed to be a reality for him. He sat on the corner of his bed and looked at the time again. This was too early.

"It's a big day," May moved too fast for his taste, all fluttering and happy when the clock told him that he should be in bed.

Peter squinted at her. "I thought this was a family trip?"

"Bread first, trip second. You almost look like your uncle there, all half asleep and grumpy." The smile cracked on her face as she took a drink out of her own mug. Her face was soft as she put the mug back down. Her eyes were focused past him, not tracking as he shifted and took a strong drink of the coffee himself with a gooey hand.

She snapped back to reality. The happy expression snapped back in place. She hummed as she turned around to check the oven. The only reason that May ever hummed was when she was working on a bottle of wine or when she was upset. The kettle hissed behind her. Whenever she thought he wasn't looking, she collapsed a little on herself.

"Did I miss something?" He asked and the bowl squeaked against the counter. "It isn't your birthday, right?"

"Nope. Not my birthday," she said and came over. "Time to get out some of that teenage aggression I hear about so much in parenting articles."

She took the bowl from him before he could stop her and she dumped the mess out on the table. Frowning, she put more flour on top and then her hands worked the dough. It folded neatly and then she bent it over itself. The room smelled funny. It must have been the yeast he was learning so much about.

"Work the dough just like that."

He tried to repeat it but his hands didn't work like hers. She laughed and came over. It took a moment for him to figure out the rhythm and the pressure that she wanted as he stretched the dough. The yeast needed to develop the gluten and the air to rise. All this science talk was making his sleepy brain work harder than it wanted to.

She sat on the bar stool next to him and "supervised".

"I used to make this all the time. A long time ago."

"Like before me?" Peter's shoulders started to warm to his surprise.

A half laugh came from her. "Before Uncle Ben."

"Well, that was ancient history, Roman times. You can only find that in history books. It's probably in the next chapter of mine."

She pushed him. "Careful. You have a lot yet to learn."

"Probably."

"Absolutely. You've got ten minutes left on that dough. I'm going to go read the newspaper like the old person that I am."

She disappeared, leaving him to work the dough. He frowned at the mass in front of him. She was floating on a string in the apartment, barely aware of what was going on around her. What had he missed? The white board calendar was in the other room but he could lean and read it. All it said for today was _"family trip - 5 am!"_. It didn't say anything about baking. It didn't say anything that helped him figure out what was going on.

He would find out soon. Probably.

The dough felt strange in his hands. It took him a second to realize that it was warming up in his grip. The food was heating without any heat source. May had said that working it would make it rise in temperature. It felt increasingly fleshy.

May swept back into the room later and took the blob from him before putting it in a pan to rise again. He eyed it. She said it was going to double in size. Somehow he doubted it. Then she moved him onto slicing cheese to put in a cooler.

"We're going to have a picnic with our fresh bread. What is fancier than cheese, bread and soda in the park?" She asked. The smile hung on her face. The cheese under her knife turning into neat cubes, the opposite of what he had.

He put the knife down. "What is today? What did I miss?"

"Nothing. I just want to spend some time with the one and only Spider-Man." The cheese went into tupperware. "How's school? MJ? Has she decided to like you back yet?"

"No, no, no, we're not like that." The knife moved quicker in hands. Maybe he could stop this conversation by going to the bathroom if he finished the cheese quickly enough.

"You could be."

"Spider-Man doesn't have time to have a girlfriend. Haven't you seen how busy I am all the time? Sometimes I don't feel like I get to sit down for weeks."

"The right person will come when they want to, not on any schedule of yours."

"It's too dangerous." He finished the last piece of cheese and put the knife down.

"Here I thought that dating Ben was on the dangerous side because he was new to NYC." She shook her head. "Come on, the bread needs baking."

It was only an hour later that they were climbing a hill in the middle of Central Park. His backpack was loaded and heavy with the food that they had just prepared. The middle of the park was a strange place. The trees were old enough to hide most of the city from view and the city hubbub turned into a very distant murmur. They were early enough that most of the tourists hadn't made it out of their hotel rooms.

The park was never completely empty. Even as they climbed the rocky hill, Peter could spot several other groups but it wasn't anything like the crowded streets. May was humming a song under her breath. He couldn't place it. May stopped and looked around. The humming continued before she adjusted the angle that they went up the hill. May's chatter on the way here had been all fluff, easy questions with known answers.

It didn't stop the prickling in the back of his neck.

At this point, the hill had turned into one of the iconic rock slabs. The edges were smoothed by the thousands of people that climbed it a day. They moved forward in a strange silence. May paused every few moments before working more up the slab.

"We're here," May called and sat down on a ridge.

"What's here?" Peter asked.

She glanced up at him. "Come on, bring that picnic."

The tightness in his chest stayed as he slung off his backpack and put it in between them. She dug into it and he settled next to her. They passed the food between them. The view wasn't anything incredible. The trees were too high in this place to get a view over the entire park and they weren't near enough to see any of the lakes.

Peter watched May play with the bread in her hands. He worked the strap on his webshooter, loosening and tightening it.

"Pet," she started and then looked at him, her eyes glassy, "I brought you out here to talk about your parents. Is that okay with you?"

"…yeah." The word staggered out of him on its own. His thoughts were still in his head.

"Today is the anniversary of your parents' engagement."

It was funny. There was this little place in him that he stored everything about his parents. It hadn't always been there but he couldn't imagine living without it. It was starting to leak now, freezing him in place on the rock.

She wiped her eyes and laughed at wet fingers. "Ben and I were there although we were only dating. I can't tell you who started dating first. One day we just all fell together at a Christmas dinner party and it felt like never left it."

He swallowed, trying to get air into his lungs. That place held so many emotions that it was hard to keep track of which one was which. It was a wave of intensity and things he didn't think about. He looked at the view and saw nothing.

"Richard surprised your mom. He told her that we were all getting together for a picnic. He told us to keep himself accountable. He was kind of a lovable nervous guy." She held up her slice. "He asked me to bake my famous bread."

He looked at it. The pieces started to fall into place.

"They got engaged here?" He asked.

"Right here," she said softly.

May had told him over and over that grief was okay over the years. He struggled to keep his face calm now. They kept a photo of his parents in the living room and in his bedroom. He had memorized those faces but it was strange to think about them as living people. His own memories of them were foggy. He remembered waiting next to his mom at the dentist reading a magazine. His dad's laugh at a cheesy ad was ingrained in his memory but none of those made them into the scientists or the people that he heard about.

"Well, sorta." She interrupted his thought. "He chickened out."

" _What?_ _"_ The surprise jerked through everything. "What happened?"

"Your father was a brilliant man but Ben and I went through the whole picnic on pins and needles waiting. Richard was a fish out of water, gaping. Your mom kept asking him if he was okay. That only made it worse. By the end, he looked like he was going to pass out and May was threatening to take him to convenient care." She drank part of her soda. "We were leaving, halfway down the rock when Richard dragged her back up to propose."

Peter found himself laughing. He could see it.

"We were supposed to take a photo but he did it so unexpectedly that we didn't have our camera out in time." She laughed. "And then he dared to give us grief about it later."

That made him laugh again at her annoyance.

"Look Peter, I don't want this to be sad." She shifted and dragged her purse around. "I want you to understand your parents, even if they weren't the most perfect people. I'm pretty sure Mary went through a phase where she wanted to kill me."

"Why?"

She shrugged and hunted through the bag. "I'm still not sure. Both Ben and Richard were hopeless at emotions most of the time."

"Things are so confusing." He rubbed his head, trying to spot the headache that was starting to grow there.

"True." She looked at him. "And as much as I hate it, you're growing up and I want you to have these."

She pulled two little black boxes out her purse. The velvet told him instantly what was inside before she put one box in her lap and opened the other. The diamond glittered between the fabric that kept the ring in place. It was simple but he couldn't look away. Two smaller blueish stones nested on either side of a diamond and a silver band held everything together.

Gingerly, he took it. The sadness crawled up the back of his throat again. It was light between his fingers that were covered in scrapes and calluses. His mom wore this for years. He recognized it from their wedding photo, her right hand placed on his shoulder to show the stone to the camera.

"I had it cleaned," May said, "beautiful, right?"

Peter nodded and closed his hand around it until he could feel the stone bite into his skin. He closed his eyes.

"And then there are these."

His vision was fuzzy as he opened his eyes to what she was showing him. The second box was open now. The wedding bands were nested next to each other. They were silver and simple, one a big thicker and bigger than the other. A necklace chain ran between the two of them and pooled behind.

"It had been a terrible year, but at the same time, I wouldn't have changed a thing because all I really remember was how bright and happy they were, standing on this rock laughing at each other after the proposal." She pulled the rings out by the chain. They clicked together as she offered it to him. "I wore their rings like this for years and years after the accident."

He took it in his free hand. The rings felt like a connection to them. It was almost like he was holding their fingers again, gentle but guiding.

"They had ' _A deal_ _'s a deal'_ inscribed on the inside. Ben thought it was morbid. I found it hilarious." May was talking to fill the air now.

He closed his hand around the wedding bands and stared at his fists not sure what to feel. Everything was mixed up inside. Part of him wanted to cry, another wanted to throw up and a final part wanted to laugh until he threw up.

"You aren't allowed to carry around a nine thousand dollar wedding ring, not with your backpack track record but whatever you want to do with the wedding bands are fine with me."

He felt himself shake inside, filled to the brim. The world was spinning around him.

"I think…I might wear them. Like you." He looked up at her, the motion causing the tears to spill.

May closed the space in between them, pulling him in for a hug. He dug his head into her shoulder as she kissed his hair and squeezed tight.

"I thought you might say that."

The next day was different. He was aware of the way that the rings laid against his chest as he ate his breakfast, boarded the subway and sat in class. He looked down to see the tiny bump that everyone else would think was a wrinkle in his t-shirt. They bounced as he ran in PE. The chain tickled as he went downstairs. The suit locked them in place against his heart as he swung, fitting under the logo.

Now, they were home too.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was unexpectedly sad, even for me. Perhaps it is just a me thing. What did you think?
> 
> Thanks for reading as always. -Quin


	10. War of Attrition

_P_ _rompt: That old man had looked like an easy victim but_ _…_

Peter knew everyone was staring at him as he trailed the group into Macy's. The only times he had been here was with May and it was to replace the suit that hung in his closet. The store was busy as they walked through the cosmetics. Of the hundreds of concoctions that were on display, he was only sure that two of them could possibly be lipstick.

"I don't want them here," Gayle said glancing back at Ned and Peter.

"Too bad," MJ replied as she weaved her arm through her little sister's, "You lost that choice when you ran away from me last time we went dress shopping. I was two seconds away from calling the police."

"And wasn't that _fun?_ "

"No."

Peter glanced at Ned starring at some bottles of cream. His head was sideways as he read a sign that said, _"Makes you younger…instantly!"_

"That's not physically possible, right?" He asked.

Peter shrugged. Real makeup was a mystery. He would go to his grave before admitting that he had a bottle of foundation that May would paint on him when the bruising was too bad in the morning. One minute he looked like he had been in a fight, then two minutes later a normal Peter Parker stared back at him. May always put down the hand mirror, pushed him off the counter and told him to be more careful next time.

They both knew that was more of a dream than a reality.

"I didn't run away," Gayle said, "I wanted ice cream. I was five. That old man had looked like an easy victim but it turned out in the end, he was on your side…" The betrayal was strong in MJ's sister's voice and she pulled away to kick a mannequin stand.

"Well, whatever lies you like to spew, the truth is now it's three against one. We are going to shop this capitalist store that our parents deemed appropriate, you aren't going to run away, and we are going to buy you a new dress so the family is socially acceptable," MJ said. Peter smiled at that as they tailed them.

It was true. MJ was growing more and more vocal the last few weeks. Exams and essays had gotten worse and the effortless cool that she emitted slipped on occasion for under eye bags, grouchiness and drowsing during lunch. Peter wasn't any better. He slept through classes more frequently than he was awake in them.

She had explained her sister's aversion to shopping a couple days ago and asked them to tag along. Not into the dressing room of course, but to be backup in case Gayle decided that she couldn't take it. It should sound boring but compared to drowning in math equations or historical PDFs on their laptops, it was idyllic. Absolutely no thinking was involved.

Plus, Peter got to spend time with MJ.

That wasn't the main reason of course.

They made it to the teen dresses and Peter nearly tripped. Hundreds of thousands of dresses hung on racks. They came in colors and with frills that he didn't know existed. May didn't do fancy. He could barely remember what her dresses even looked like. Now there were literally thousands of choices in front of him and those were only the ones that he could see.

MJ sighed. "Now starts the war of attrition."

"Damn this wedding."

MJ bumped her shoulder. "Gayle…"

All she got was a storm of grumbles and then Gayle was gone in the fabric.

"Ok team." MJ turned on her heel and clapped her hands together. "We'll take turns walking the rows with her and making sure she doesn't slip out of here or lose focus. Be careful. She's clever. Frog, you're first."

Peter nodded at the nickname and started to push between the dresses after her. He heard Ned asking why MJ had called Peter a frog. All she cared to answer was that he seemed okay with it. The smooth fabric pushed against his arms as he waded in next to her sister.

She was holding up a red thing. By the way it hung on the hanger, he didn't have any idea of how it was supposed to be worn.

"I could go slutty," Gayle said and held up a semi transparent tube that might be a sleeve, "but I think the whole family would take turns trying to kill me. Opinions?"

"Um. Probably not a good idea?" He experimentally pulled a dress out. It was purple and looked like he knew reasonably where the head and arms might go. Lace was all over it. It looked like it might be right for a wedding.

"I know. Why is being young so hard?" She sighed and then spotted what was in his hands. "I don't think she'll go for that. It doesn't scream toxicity or feminine charms. She really has no in between."

"What?" He looked at the fabric and then back at her.

"Aren't you helping shop for MJ?" Her eyes narrowed. They were different from her sister's, a lighter color and clever. MJ's were sharper and always looking for something. Gayle let the red dress lower to the floor.

"She has to buy something new too. I figured she wanted a guy's opinion. Or are you _actually_ here to babysit me?" She turned completely to face him. Something told him she was getting ready to slip away at the wrong answer.

MJ was here to buy a dress as well? She would have to try on things. Gayle seemed to think that she might ask his opinion. His fingers tightened around his hanger.

"Helping MJ. Shopping for MJ?" What a strange phrase.

"Great." She smiled as she went back to business pushing through the dresses. "I can help you filter through some of the crap if you bring it to me first. It might save you some embarrassment. I guess that Ned and MJ are working together."

"Yeah," he said emptily.

"Cool."

He stared at the clothes again. He was supposed to be helping her now? Without the guise, he had the feeling that she might try to run off again. That would cause MJ to be even more disappointed in him. His hands brushed through the colors and different fabrics. He tried to imagine what MJ might wear to a wedding. His brain drew a blank and his fingers dragged down the satin on the skirt in front of him. MJ hadn't mentioned anything about this. If Gayle was telling the truth, it would be strange for Peter to hand dresses to her without her telling him to do so. Yet, it almost sounded like…fun? Peter made a face.

This was a different kind of mission than just keeping track of Gayle. The Gayle, he realized, who was no longer at his side.

The aisle was empty.

Shit.

He twisted. She wasn't further down to the right or the left. He swallowed and almost called her name. He could hear MJ just a few aisles over, muttering to herself. He didn't want her to find out yet. He wobbled as he stepped on a hanger on the ground. The dresses seemed to hide everything. They expanded to fill most of the space between the rows.

He took a breath and casually walked out of the row. No Gayle. A human being didn't just disappear. MJ was to his left. She wouldn't go that way if she didn't want to be caught. The right held more dresses and also a way towards an exit into the mall. He went right. The next row was empty. He kept going. Still no Gayle. He walked three more rows before stopping.

Something twitched in him. He wasn't going to let a preteen sneak away from him. He took down mobs and tied up thieves. This could not be this hard. He planted his feet and forced himself to relax and listen. Hangers scraped all around him on the rods. A pop song played on the overhead just quiet enough to not be noticed. MJ was talking about dresses with Ned. Ned tried his best to respond intelligently. That caught his attention. Gayle wasn't lying.

No one was running or walking quickly. She couldn't be out of his range yet.

He strained and found someone breathing hard about thirty feet back the way he came. Well, she wasn't running. She was hiding. They would all spread out to look for her and then she would slip away. Had Peter not been who he was, it almost would have worked.

He opened his eyes and started back. She would probably be on the other side of the aisle. He paused at the right one and glanced down it. These were bigger dresses with those princess like skirts. Perfect to duck under. His weight was on his toes as he took one step down. She was safely tucked away. The breathing grew more stifled.

He stopped. It would be better to come at it from the other way. It wasn't like he was going to swing across the rows of clothings if she made a break for it. Pulling out his phone, he pretended to be distracted as he turned back the way that he came. Walking the next aisle, he came around the corner to pull back the dresses and ask exactly what Gayle was thinking.

Instead she was standing in the middle of the row, princess dress pressed up against her body. She looked up at him, the surprise wavering on believable.

"Oh Peter! What do you think of this one?" She asked and pulled the dress up to her neck. A smart smile was fighting to stay hidden.

He tilted his head. "Were you hiding in these dresses?"

She scoffed and pushed the dress back. "Ha. No. Why would you think _that,_ Dad?"

"I guess it was just my imagination."

"Completely your imagination. If you insist on following me, come on. These dresses are too expensive anyways." Then she was walking away from him and waving her hand in the air.

He couldn't help the smile on his face. She really was MJ's little sister.

They weren't allowed in the dressing rooms. Gayle had found a couple dresses that she had said she liked and MJ had arrived with a few under her arm and no comment. Two chairs were outside the dressing room and Ned and Peter sat in them without comment. It felt strange. He had seen so many husbands and parents sit in chairs like these when they went to big name stores but he never imagined that he would be one of the ones sitting in them. Now he stared at the hallway that they had disappeared into and wondered if they liked anything that they had brought in there.

"This is weird," Ned said. He had been spinning his phone in his fingers for the last five minutes.

"Agreed."

"Like, really weird."

"Yup."

"Why were we here again?"

Peter looked at him. "MJ wasn't lying. Gayle did try to run away but didn't make it very far."

Ned's eyebrows rose. "What stopped her?"

"She didn't know what she was up against." He leaned back in his chair, pushing his feet out in front of him.

Ned snorted. "True. It's cool. You've always got that up your sleeve."

"Maybe. It doesn't help with that math midterm on Tuesday."

"Not even being a superhero can save you from that."

They laughed at their stress. What were they even doing with their lives anymore?

"Well, you didn't have to laugh right away," MJ said.

Both girls stood crowded at the entrance to the dressing rooms. The laughter stopped immediately. They were both dressed up. Gayle had gone with a blue thing with lacy bits on the top that made her seem less tomboyish. Peter hadn't realized how strong her arms looked. Years and years of ballet would do that, he guessed

His eyes almost skated over her sister before landing on MJ. They stuck like glue there. The dress was a light silver and was longer than Gayle's. It somehow made her look taller. The bottom half was loose and swayed as she shifted her weight. She had a waist, he realized somewhat baffled. That had been there the whole time but he had never noticed it. Now it was all he could see.

She felt different in the dress as well. The slump was gone and while she was still scowling at him, it was softened. Something was different with her hair too. It was off her shoulders. It made her look older and exposed her collarbone. She had one of those too. Amazing, part of his brain commented, MJ has basic anatomy.

MJ crossed her arms in front of her. "I'm wearing gray mourning the eventual divorce in two to five years from now."

"So you don't like him either!" Gayle turned on her.

"Just kidding. I like the color." She turned and the dress did this thing where it moved and Peter's heart stopped. "It flows well too. Opinions from the peanut gallery?"

"You both look great," Ned supplied.

Peter nodded and realized that words were necessary here. "Yeah. What he said."

"You like it?" Her eyes strayed onto him.

"It's very formal." This phrase came out of his mouth without any prior agreement with the rest of him. MJ snorted. Gayle rolled her eyes. Peter's head dropped.

"Well. I guess that solves all our problems. Come on, sis. Not that we needed it but the male half of the species approves. Our work is done here."

They swished around and Peter watched them go between his fingers. A silver zipper down the back of the dress made his stomach drop.

And then he had to go and say they looked formal.

Peter groaned into his hands. He was too dumb for life.

"Are you alright there?" Ned asked.

"She…looked _pretty_ ," he said between his fingers. "MJ looked _pretty._ _"_

"Peter! You said you were off that train for good!"

"Yeah. I did, didn't I?

He wasn't really asking Ned. He was asking the part of himself that was telling him that he may have made a mistake. The girls' laughter echoed in his ears. He dug his face in his palms harder.

Ned patted his shoulders. "You could do worse."

"Not helping."

"Nobody can help you now, Peter. Nature must take its course."

Peter's ears went red. "You're so wrong."

Ned gave him another pat before leaning back without comment.

He was right and they both knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so late on the upload day! I went on vacation and got distracted...reading fanfiction? It's really funny. Once I started writing fanfiction, I didn't have time to read it. It's a real treat to actually relax and scroll through the stories and pick something incredible and inventive up. I need to step up my game! Haha.
> 
> So I wrote 1k yesterday and another 1k today to make it before midnight. As for the story, I am starting to fall for Gayle's brattiness. She also called Peter "Dad". I was dying to describe these dresses but I know most teenage guys wouldn't know what a "sweetheart neckline", "tea length gown" or "sheer". At least not Peter since he doesn't have siblings! I had to stay loyal to his voice.
> 
> Oh. Then there is the ending.
> 
> What did you think?
> 
> Thanks for reading as always. -Quin


	11. Being a Hero

_Prompt: He never thought that he would be the hero._

Peter never thought that he would be the hero. Frankly, it had never crossed his mind growing up. He was always the backstage kid, the kid that peoples' eyes glossed over when they looked for the ones that might be interesting. He was never it.

The apartment complex was crackling in front of him. The smoke and sparks sputtering out of the holes that the fire had already made. The air in his lungs stung as he sat on the trunk of a parked car, watching it all burn. Karen did another scan. No one was left inside. He had managed to clear them all out in time.

When Peter had first realized how disinteresting everyone found him, he had tried to change it. He tried to be louder. He tried to be smarter. He tried to act out. All that was like trying to fight a river. He couldn't do it. It wasn't in his nature. Peter Parker was unremarkable and there was nothing else that could be done about it. He quit the act and felt relieved.

Firefighters swarmed and soaked the buildings around the burning one. People spread out into the street but he had found that if he sat still in a dark enough area, even the red and blue wouldn't give him away. The soot helped too. He shifted in his seat and took a deep breath to control the pain.

After the shock of becoming Spider-Man, he had been excited. Looking in the mirror, he saw muscles he only saw magazines and skills to boot. He could do extraordinary things. This was his chance to be something more than the wallflower. He could be someone who stepped into the spotlight, winked at the camera and told the world that he was Iron Man. The feeling of potential was intoxicating and raised him to such levels that crash after Uncle Ben's death stabbed him through the heart.

The last trip into the fiery apartment complex had been the worst. The previous heat exposures mucked with the mechanics of the suit. Karen had crackled that the building was unstable and it was "inadvisable" to continue. Most of the walls had caught and the smoke made it hard to see. The upper floors of the eight story building looked like silly putty and they were curving in on themselves. It was a newer building. The walls weren't brick or concrete. Still, he was the only one to hear the teen and his dog screaming. Peter had told himself he had time.

Afterwards, he wasn't sure what was worse, the sandpaper lungs or the bleeding shoulder. He had tried to look at it a few times but it was hard to see. All he knew was that it hurt. The car groaned under him as he shifted. Really he should try to get further away but instead he was entranced by the apartments. The roof was smoking and steaming in rivers. The inside was so bright that the lenses almost fully constricted when he focused on it. This was his fifth or sixth house fire. It always seemed unreal in the end. Mother nature truly did get her way no matter what.

He had found the fourteen year old and the pitbull trapped between two portions of the burning hallway. The suit wasn't entirely fireproof but it was safe enough to jump through flames. The air conditioning in the suit had given up awhile back. The heat made Peter dizzy and the floor was annoying slick under his soles. Karen fed him a constant stream of suit failures. Apparently when enough of the suit's mechanical fluids evaporated, things stopped working. What a wonder that the suit had functioned at all.

He had to consider his hiding spot again as the media started to show up. The survivors huddled around the ambulances that took care of them. The cameramen and announcers crowded around the show of lights, backs to the flames. He shoved himself further back on the car. They hadn't noticed him and if he had any luck, they wouldn't. Swinging away didn't feel good. The streak of pain on his shoulder told him to stay and wait for his own help.

Peter had taken the dog from the teen. The guy was barely standing as he coughed up smoke and leaned against a wall. Peter had ended up pushing him up and in front of him as he guided them out. The fire was oppressive, pushing against their skin and crawling down both their throats. The suit had a filter and the kid had dragged his shirt up around his face. Peter had one hand on his shoulder and the other was holding the dog like a football. Thankfully, the dog was heavy and limp in his arm. The brown eyes looked up at him patiently. There was a jump pad at the end of the hallway out the window that Peter had busted to get in. They just had to get to that. Some of the front doors were on fire now but the way was clear. It was the sound of thunder that made Peter's stomach drop.

A couple of the firefighters were standing back, pointing at various aspects of the now collapsed building. Peter coughed and picked at the webbing that was plastered to his suit. The yellow liquid flaked and floated towards the ground. He had tried to use the webshooters but the webs dried on contact with the hot air. It would be something that he would be looking at more later. He checked the interface of the suit. A blue light slowly flashed. His location was being tracked by Stark Industries at his request. The estimated time of arrival of his help was two minutes. Karen crackled something about the suit needing mandatory repairs.

The apartment complex was giving up the ghost with them still in it. Something told Peter that the ceiling was going to collapse. It was moments like this that were the easiest for him. It felt good to make this decision. It was a simple cause and effect. He had pushed hard on the kid's shoulder as the carpet shook under him. They both broke into a run, momentum pushing them to double over. Peter shouted something. He didn't even know what it was because the roar was deafening. The floor was sliding more at an angle backwards. The heat pounded against their backs. They made it to the window where the kid didn't look back and threw himself out. Peter smiled as the kid disappeared and that's when the steel beam struck his back.

The kid was now wrapped in a blanket with the dog in his lap. Peter imagined that they could see each other through all the chaos that divided them. Peter waved as he started to ease off the car. The teen's head turned but the expression on his face didn't change. It was so strange now he was in big traumatic moments of peoples' lives but then he disappeared back into the darkness. "Spider-Man saved me" was somewhat like a badge that you earned in NYC now. Actually, Peter was sure that there were a few stores that sold badges and postcards that said that exactly. Peter didn't mind it but sometimes he craved to know more about these people. Where did that teen go to school? Would Peter see him in passing? What was the dog's name? He limped away towards a side street used for garbage and stinky pools of water. The designated pick up was on the next block. His back burned with every step.

The initial shock of the beam had shoved him to his knees. The dog yelped as Peter moved him towards his stomach to protect him. The steel wasn't on fire but it was hot enough to immediately scour through his suit and dig into the skin underneath. The construction beam had dragged and slid off as the floor continued to buckle. He didn't yell, only grit his teeth. The pain vibrated in him and then he packed it away in a corner for later. He had to put one hand out to cling to the floor. He pushed himself up and out the window, glass cutting into his hands. It wasn't a pretty fall. He was half twisted in the air with no time to straighten. He tried to rotate himself so his back would hit the pad first and he wrapped his arms firmly around the dog. The air tickled around him and the excitement of falling trilled in his ears.

For those first couple months, Peter had felt so alone and isolated with what he was doing. He was getting shot and yelled at everyday even though he was doing the right thing. Spider-Man hadn't hit the big news yet. All the small reporters were scratching their heads and shrugging at the strangeness of a teen in a red hoodie. He remembered one online article saying: "He probably won't last long so enjoy the novelty as it lasts." He wasn't Iron Man. He wasn't close. He was a kid that had some special skills that he really didn't know how to use. Looking back at it, he was like that apartment building, slowly collapsing from the inside. He had a cocky attitude but that only carried him so far. It was hard to face all that without anybody else.

He must have blacked out a moment when he hit the pad. It was the only thing that made sense. In his memory, he could only remember the fall and then the arms that were dragging him off the plastic. The dog had crawled away, the little paws pressing hard into his stomach and then gone. Peter had coughed and forced himself to wave off the firefighters. They were needed elsewhere. They laughed and hit his back, not seeing the red smear through the black on the crash pad. Some of these faces he knew. One gave him a thumbs up and called him "Mr. Nine Lives". Another asked if he was staying for the press. He shook his head because he could barely breathe. That's when he tried to swing off and barely made it into the shadows before dropping back to the pavement.

He stared at the dark street that he walked out onto. It was in such contrast to the action one block over. He leaned against the wall and waited. Tony Stark flipped a switch in his life when Peter found him on his couch. Spider-Man started to grow. Sure, he grew strong and the tech was cool but that wasn't what he was talking about. He became happier as people started to find out. Ned and May made it easier to keep going. He didn't have to hide everything from everyone. He didn't have to be strong all the time. He liked himself more. Peter Parker wasn't remarkable but he had friends around him. He didn't need the whole world looking at him, just them. The blue dot flashed and then disappeared. A white van pulled over a few feet away.

Peter stepped out.

The door opened and he winced as he half jogged over. Catherine stood in the light, smacking gum and looking unamused as he clambered up inside.

"Hmmm…crispy," the nurse said as her eyes scanned over his shoulder.

"That's your medical diagnosis? 'Crispy'?" He eased himself onto the waiting chair with a half smile. That was all he could muster. The van was familiar and neatly packed with supplies that he was gradually getting to know.

Her eyes narrowed as she started to poke around his arm. "Yes. Currently, crispy. I can give you more details later."

It took her half the ride home to get him patched up. He still winced as she shot a line of anesthetic through his back but the resulting relief was incredible. The haze that followed melted everything away. Her hands were firm on his shoulder as she peeled away the suit. She ran a scissors down the arm and carefully eased him out of it. Her focus landed on the wedding bands against his chest before professionally moving on. The bandage was cool against his angry skin. He sighed unwinding. Eventually he came back enough to realize that he was laying half asleep on the gurney with an IV bag above him.

"Did you put something in this?" He pointed drunkenly to the bag hanging from the ceiling.

"It's got an isotonic cystalloid at nine percent." She looked up from her phone. When did she get over there?

"A istonic…crystal?" He asked, half rising. Her hand pushed on his chest and nothing could stop him from laying back on the bed. The paper covering crackled. She pulled out a blanket he had seen a dozen times and tucked it over him. His hand rested on top of it. He traced the IV upwards with his eyes. Things were heavier. The engine faded from his ears.

Catherine took a seat and held back a laugh. "Salt, Peter, salt is a isotonic cystalloid. All that's in there is water and salt. You're exhausted. Get some sleep."

"…exhaustion."

That was the last thing he remembered before drifting back off. This was what he needed. People to make sure that he was taking care of him. That was the thing that was missing from those first months. It wasn't always the nurse next to him. It was May who dragged him out of bed every morning and made sure that he ate something healthy before running out the door. It was Ned and MJ making him laugh. It was all the people that nobody knew about. Spider-Man could only do everything he did because of the people around him.

Mentally, he thanked them all again and sank back into darkness. He would be nothing without them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the quality of these has slipped a little the last few weeks. I apologize. Things have been hard and I know these haven't been as cheery. The ending does feel like something out of In Stitches. It makes me sentimental.
> 
> Sorry again and I hope that you still liked it.
> 
> Thank you for reading as always. -Quin


	12. Friendly Competition

_Prompt: It was the best summer ever_

Chapter redacted by author. 8/9/2020


	13. Chapter 13

_Prompt: Suddenly, she began to laugh aloud._

As Spider-Man approached the target site, he couldn't help the growing nerves in his throat. This was a mistake. Nobody would recommend this. He swallowed and stopped as he curled around a building to peak ahead. The night was dark, even all of the nightlife had gone to bed. It was only him and the people that should be making better life decisions. Well, maybe he was in that category too.

About twenty minutes ago, he was doing pretty good. The Spider-Man stuff was done. He had crashed in bed, feeling every joint crack and release as he hit the mattress. This was his favorite time of night. He could check off that everything was done and sleep. The world had given him about three seconds before his phone had blown up. The buzzes kept going until he unlocked it.

_2:39 from Ned: Are you reading the group chat right now?_

His eyes had struggled to focus on the words and carefully he rolled onto his back, feeling the bruises forming. _No,_ he responded, _just home. Busy night._

_2:39 from Ned: Read it. This is a guy-in-the-chair order._

Peter frowned.

The Stragglers group chat did have a string of unread messages. Apparently, MJ was griping about a group project. This was normal. The group of girls were "the epitome of entitled cliche" and she often gave them amusing play-by-plays. The last message there was a grainy selfie of a frowning MJ and a subway sign.

_2:22 from MJ: Guess who got stuck on the_ _"closed for maintenance" track? Parents aren't picking up and don't have the cash for a cab so walking life for me. Next time, Rebecca should skip late vocal lessons. She doesn't need them. Night losers. :/_

It was late. Really late. Peter had blown a breath out on the text. The Spider-Man mask was next to him. The lenses looked back at him as he summoned the energy to grab it.

_2:40 from Ned: MJ is cool but you would be worried about me if I was out like this._

Peter had sent a response with one thumb as he crawled his way off his bed. _Yeah. On my way._

In retrospect, he should have thought about this more.

It had taken Ned about five minutes to figure out MJ's estimated route from the subway station to her apartment. A couple minutes after that, Peter had found MJ walking down the street alone. She was in a hurry, her hair floating behind her. He wasn't sure what to do. He could follow by the roofs. If anyone gave her trouble, he could swing in and out without much interaction. Spider-Man usually didn't work this late but Peter had never gotten the impression that MJ cared much about the superhero.

It was funny to see her on the street. From this distance, she looked like everyone else, just another person living in NYC.

He crawled along, swinging high enough that hopefully nobody would see him. He fought every yawn. The street was mostly empty but MJ's strides were measured and she looked down the alleys before passing in front of them. Spider-Man and MJ hadn't interacted much. Every time that she had seen him in the suit, it sent a strange feeling through him. He was Peter Parker in spandex again, not Spider-Man doing his thing.

She was walking faster now. According to Karen, they were about fifteen minutes out from her house. He wanted to count down those minutes. The sooner that she was home, the better for both of them. She hurried further for a couple more blocks. He had to pick up the pace to keep up with her.

"Are you stalking me or what?" She stopped and looked over her shoulder, directly at his hiding place three stories up. "I didn't think that superheroes are supposed to be this creepy."

At first he was sure that she wasn't talking to him. Then she turned and pointed directly at him.

"Don't think I can't see you right there."

Embarrassment came over him in a wave. Here he was, standing on a small porch, half hidden behind a dead plant, caught and called out.

"Oh hi," he said.

Okay. Now he could crawl into a hole and die without a second thought.

She crossed her arms. "You've been following me for the last couple blocks. Why?"

His heart beat in his chest. Carefully, he eased over the edge of the porch and lowered himself to the sidewalk. Part of him wanted to run and disappear into the night. More overpowering than that was the feeling that he wanted MJ to know that Spider-Man wasn't a creep.

She took a step back as he straightened. He needed to be careful. Already being this close was too close.

"I was swinging around and I saw you alone," he said and his voice raised uncontrollably as he talked, "I thought you might want a little protection?"

He didn't know what to do with his hands. What were hands supposed to do again?

Her eyebrows narrowed. "Why do you think that I need protection?"

His mouth went dry. Every answer that he could think of was a guaranteed way to make her even more defensive and angry. _Because I care about you_ was the right answer but it died in his throat. He waved hopelessly.

MJ sighed. "Fine. Whatever. If you are going to follow me, I would rather have you in plain sight than doing that creepy sneaky sneak thing."

"I wasn't sneaking. I was protecting."

She pointed a few feet to her left. "Semantics is a great pastime that I suggest that you take up. Come on."

Peter stood, frozen. He shouldn't. He should turn around and go away but he couldn't. So instead, he walked to where she pointed and stopped a few feet further away. Her shoulders were high and her chin was pushed forward. The guarded look in her eyes made him want to ease her into his secret right then.

The silence spread out as they looked at each other.

"After you," he pointed forward finally.

MJ started walking. Her hands shoved themselves in her pocket. The city rumbled around them. Off in the distance, car horns sounded. If he was really on the clock, they might have been an indication that he needed to be elsewhere. Karen was muted. The UI minimized to almost nothing as they walked side by side. The clock was ticking closer to early morning hours.

"How did you know I was behind you?" He asked, trying to cover the sounds of their steps and his heart in his ears. He felt like he was walking on a knife's edge.

"Easy," she said carelessly, "people on the other side of the street kept taking photos and whispering to themselves. After a couple blocks of that, I figured that you must be after me."

"I wasn't after you-"

MJ cut over him, "You know, my sister would freak if she knew about this. She's a big fan."

"Yeah, that's cool." He tried to pretend that the 180 in the conversation was normal. "Are you, you know, a fan?"

She squinted at him. "You aren't selling yourself very well right now."

"I guess that's right."

A cab drove past them cutting them silent. A couple on the other side of the street shouted at him. He waved but was thankful that they were happy to take photos at a distance. MJ turned her head away. They turned a corner. The block was lined with little shops, all closed and dark. Peter had been here before. The night made everything look different.

"I have always been curious about something." MJ stared ahead.

"Yeah?" He kicked himself. He said that too quickly.

She stopped. "Do you have a job or something? Like financially superhero business is absolutely not a stable industry and cost of living is ridiculous even if you live in Queens."

"I live in Queens?" He asked.

"My sister talks non stop all the time. Things stick on occasion."

He felt like he wasn't getting enough air. "Well, that's just the most common theory."

"So you _don_ _'t_ live in Queens?"

"No! I mean, maybe. That information is confidential, ma'am."

He was rewarded with a snort. "Okay, Spider-Man."

He shouldn't be sweating this much. They started forward again.

Suddenly, she began to laugh aloud.

"What?"

"I just realized I could assume from what you said that you are homeless and penniless without the suit. That's really funny."

He shook his head and stared at his toes. "Not fair."

"Not fair? You were the one that scared me by following me in the shadows. You should never do that to anyone again. Seriously. Not a good idea." She gave him a look that made it feel like there was no mask between them. This was the MJ that called him out all the time and then shrugged it off like it really wasn't a big deal.

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind."

She smiled to herself.

The door to the apartment appeared out of nowhere. It wasn't possible but it surprised him as he read the numbers on the door. He felt his stomach turn as he stopped and she climbed the few steps up to the door. She paused and looked down at him.

"I hope you have a good night. It's late. Go to bed." She smirked.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

She turned her head and frowned. "You remind me of someone."

Shit. He said that in his real life to her. He straightened, trying to give himself a few inches that he didn't have. "Whose that?"

"You should worry, he's a loser." She shook her head and pulled out her keys.

The key went in the lock. He looked around and rubbed across the back of his mask, trying to think so hard that everything went blank in his mind. She had the door half open before he thought of anything.

"Hey. I didn't answer." He took one step up.

She looked back. "Hm?"

"I do have a job. Another job. That's how I make my rent. I'm not homeless." The words felt stupid coming out as if each one was labeled as an excuse and a lie.

She searched her face and then shrugged. "Cool. Thanks. Tonight has been educational at least."

The door clicked shut.

He stood for a moment trying to catch his breath. That was too close. All the way home, he ran through everything else that he could have said that would have been better. His mind now had a million ideas now. After he had crawled back into his bed, he checked his phone. A couple messages lit up the screen.

_2:51 from Ned: Not to mother but did you make it home okay?_

_2:51 from MJ: Yup._

_2:51 from Ned: Cool. Any weirdos?_

_2:52 from MJ: Not weirdos. I met this guy on the way. Kinda creepy for 3 a.m. but I_ _'ve never met someone whose loser level was more off the scales. It was, in fact, impressive._

Peter didn't read more even though there was more conversation. He groaned, pulled a pillow over his face and tried to get some sleep.

Off the scales loser.

That was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a big chapter for me.
> 
> As of this week, I have posted fanfiction consecutively for an entire year. That's right folks. I've done the calculations and I've posted 136,000 words in 52 weeks which is such a ridiculous number to me since I did not even include the personal Nano I did in November. This spans from In Stitches until The Stragglers. I feel so thankful to have so much fun on the way here.
> 
> But it is time for a break.
> 
> I haven't felt writing Peter for a bit and while I've never let it affect it me, I have not received a single comment or review for almost a month. Writing is a lot of late nights and I need to catch up on my life. 
> 
> So I'm not tossing complete on this but I am hanging up the Spider-Man hat for a moment. This is a series of short stories at the end of the day.
> 
> Does it mean that I am "retiring"? Probably not. I could be gone a month or a year. Who knows. With Spider-Man 3 coming, there is a possibility I'll come back to Spider-Man but I am growing very excited about other communities.
> 
> Thanks for coming on this ride with me. I know some of you have been around a while. If you're interested, follow this story or me. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading.
> 
> See you around the bend. -Quin


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